SHUT IT DOWN!
A COLLEGE IN CRISIS
SAN FRANCISCO STAT
OCTOBER, 19B8-APRIL J96
A STAFF REPORT TO THE NATIONAL
COMMISSION ON THE CAUSES AND
PREVENTION OF VIOLENCE
PREPARED DY
William H, * ''
A STAFF REPORT
NOT A REPORT
OF THE
COMMISSION
The White House
June 10, 1968
EXECUTIVE ORDER #11412
ESTABLISHING A NATIONAL COMMISSION ON
THE CAUSES AND PREVENTION OF VIOLENCE
By virtue of the authority vested in me as President of the United States, it
is ordered as follows:
SECTION 1. Establishment of the Commission, (a) There is hereby
established a National Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence
(hereinafter referred to as the "Commission").
(b) The Commission shall be composed of:
Dr. Milton Eisenhower, Chairman
Congressman Hale Boggs Senator Roman Hruska
Archbishop Terence J. Cooke Albert E. Jenner, Jr.
Ambassador Patricia Harris Congressman William M. McCulloch
Senator Philip A. Hart *Dr. W. Walter Menninger
Judge A. Leon Higginbotham *Judge Ernest William McFarland
Eric Hoffer *Leon Jaworski
SECTION 2. Functions of the Commission. The Commission shall
investigate and make recommendations with respect to:
(a) The causes and prevention of lawless acts of violence in our society,
including assassination, murder and assault;
(b) The causes and prevention of disrespect for law and order, of
disrespect for public officials, and of violent disruptions of public order by
individuals and groups; and
(c) Such other matters as the President may place before the Commis-
sion.
SECTION 4. Staff of the Commission.
SECTION 5. Cooperation by Executive Departments and Agencies.
(a) The Commission, acting through its Chairman, is authorized to
request from any executive department or agency any information and
assistance deemed necessary to carry out its functions under this Order. Each
department or agency is directed, to the extent permitted by law and within
the limits of available funds, to furnish information and assistance to the
Commission.
SECTION 6. Report and Termination. The Commission shall present its
report and recommendations as soon as practicable, but not later than one
year from the date of this Order. The Commission shall terminate thirty days
following the submission of its final report or one year from the date of this
Order, whichever is earlier.
S/Lyndon B. Johnson
*Added by an Executive Order June 21 , 1968
The White House
May 23, 1969
EXECUTIVE ORDER #11469
EXTENDING THE LIFE OF THE NATIONAL COMMISSION
ON THE CAUSES AND PREVENTION OF VIOLENCE
By virtue of the authority vested in me as President of the United States,
Executive Order No. 11412 of June 10, 1968, entitled "Establishing a National
Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence," is hereby amended
by substituting for the last sentence thereof the following: "The Commission
shall terminate thrity days following the submission of its final report or on
December 10, 1969, whichever is earlier."
S/ Richard Nixon
SHUT IT DOWN!
A College In Crisis -
San Francisco State College
October, 1968-April, 1969
A Report to the
National Commission on
the Causes and Prevention
of Violence
by
WILLIAM H. ORRICK, Jr., Director
San Francisco State College Study Team
June 1969
Official editions of publications of the National Commission on the Causes
and Prevention of Violence may be freely used, duplicated or published, in
whole or in part, except to the extent that, where expressly noted in the pub-
lications, they contain copyrighted materials reprinted by permission of the
copyright holders. Photographs may have been copyrighted by the owners,
and permission to reproduce may be required.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 76-602072
For sale by the Superintendent of Documents, U.S. Government Printing Office
Washington, D.C., 20402 - Price $1.00
STATEMENT ON THE STAFF STUDIES
The Commission was directed to "go as far as man's
knowledge takes" it in searching for the causes of violence
and the means of prevention. These studies are reports to
the Commission by independent scholars and lawyers who
have served as directors of our staff task forces and study
teams; they are not reports by the Commission itself. Pub-
lication of any of the reports should not be taken to imply
endorsement of their contents by the Commission, or by
any member of the Commission's staff, including the Exec-
utive Director and other staff officers, not directly responsi-
ble for the preparation of the particular report. Both the
credit and the responsibility for the reports lie in each case
with the directors of the task forces and study teams. The
Commission is making the reports available at this time as
works of scholarship to be judged on their merits, so that
the Commission as well as the public may have the benefit
of both the reports and informed criticism and comment on
their contents.
Dr. Milton S. Eisenhower, Chairman
SHUT IT DOWN!
A College In Crisis
WILLIAM H. ORRICK, Jr., Director
San Francisco State College Study Team
Commission Staff Officers
Lloyd N. Cutler, Executive Director
Thomas D. Barr , Deputy Director
James F. Short, Jr., Marvin E. Wolfgang, Co-Directors of Research
James S. Campbell, General Counsel
William G. McDonald, Administrative Office
Joseph Laitin, Director of Information
Ronald Wolk, Special Assistant to the Chairman
National Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence
Dr. Milton S. Eisenhower, Chairman
PREFACE
From the earliest days of organization, the Chairman, Commissioners, and
Executive Director of the National Commission on the Causes and Prevention
of Violence recognized the importance of research in accomplishing the task
of analyzing the many facets of violence in America. As a result of this
recognition, the Commission has enjoyed the receptivity, encouragement, and
cooperation of a large part of the scientific community in this country.
Because of the assistance given in varying degrees by scores of scholars here
and abroad, these Task Force reports represent some of the most elaborate
work ever done on the major topics they cover.
The Commission was formed on June 10, 1968. By the end of the month,
the Executive Director had gathered together a small cadre of capable young
lawyers from various Federal agencies and law firms around the country. That
group was later augmented by partners borrowed from some of the Nation's
major law firms who served without compensation. Such a professional group
can be assembled more quickly than university faculty because the latter are
not accustomed to quick institutional shifts after making firm commitments
of teaching or research at a particular locus. Moreover, the legal profession
has long had a major and traditional role in Federal agencies and commissions.
In early July a group of 50 persons from the academic disciplines of
sociology, psychology, psychiatry, political science, history, law, and biology
were called together on short notice to discuss for 2 days how best the
Commission and its staff might proceed to analyze violence. The enthusiastic
response of these scientists came at a moment when our Nation was still
suffering from the tragedy of Senator Kennedy's assassination.
It was clear from that meeting that the scholars were prepared to join
research analysis and action, interpretation, and policy. They were eager to
present to the American people the best available data, to bring reason to
bear where myth had prevailed. They cautioned against simplistic solutions,
but urged application of what is known in the service of sane policies for the
benefit of the entire society.
Shortly thereafter the position of Director of Research was created. We
assumed the role as a joint undertaking, with common responsibilities. Our
function was to enlist social and other scientists to join the staff, to write
papers, act as advisers or consultants, and engage in new research. The
decentralized structure of the staff, which at its peak numbered 100, required
research coordination to reduce duplication and to fill in gaps among the
original seven separate Task Forces. In general, the plan was for each Task
Force to have a pair of directors: one a social scientist, one a lawyer. In a
number of instances, this formal structure bent before the necessities of
available personnel but in almost every case the Task Force work program
relied on both social scientists and lawyers for its successful completion. In
addition to our work with the seven original Task Forces, we provided con-
sultation for the work of the eighth "Investigative" Task Force, formed
originally to investigate the disorders at the Democratic and Republican
National Conventions and the civil strife in Cleveland during the summer of
1968 and eventually expanded to study campus disorders at several colleges
and universities.
Throughout September and October and in December of 1968 the Com-
mission held about 30 days of public hearings related expressly to each of the
Task Force areas. About 100 witnesses testified, including many scholars,
Government officials, corporate executives as well as militants and activists of
various persuasions. In addition to the hearings, the Commission and the staff
met privately with scores of persons, including college presidents, religious
and youth leaders, and experts in such areas as the media, victim compensa-
tion, and firearms. The staff participated actively in structuring and conduct-
ing those hearings and conferences and in the questioning of witnesses.
As Research Directors, we participated in structuring the strategy of design
for each Task Force, but we listened more than directed. We have known the
delicate details of some of the statistical problems and computer runs. We
have argued over philosophy and syntax; we have offered bibliographical and
other resource materials, we have written portions of reports and copy edited
others. In short, we know the enormous energy and devotion, the long hours
and accelerated study that members of each Task Force have invested in their
labors. In retrospect we are amazed at the high caliber and quantity of the
material produced, much of which truly represents, the best in research and
scholarship. About 150 separate papers and projects were involved in the
work culminating in the Task Force reports. We feel less that we have orches-
trated than that we have been members of the orchestra, and that together
with the entire staff we have helped compose a repertoire of current knowl-
edge about the enormously complex subject of this Commission.
That scholarly research is predominant in the work here presented is
evident in the product. But we should like to emphasize that the roles which
we occupied were not limited to scholarly inquiry. The Directors of Research
were afforded an opportunity to participate in all Commission meetings. We
engaged in discussions at the highest levels of decisionmaking, and had great
freedom in the selection of scholars, in the control of research budgets, and in
the direction and design of research. If this was not unique, it is at least an
uncommon degree of prominence accorded research by a national commission.
There were three major levels to our research pursuit: (1) summarizing the
state of our present knowledge and clarifying the lacunae where more or new
research should be encouraged; (2) accelerating known ongoing research so as
to make it available to the Task Forces; (3) undertaking new research projects
vi
within the limits of time and funds available. Coming from a university
setting where the pace of research is more conducive to reflection and quiet
hours analyzing data, we at first thought that completing much meaningful
new research within a matter of months was most unlikely. But the need was
matched by the talent and enthusiasm of the staff, and the Task Forces very
early had begun enough new projects to launch a small university with a score
of doctoral theses. It is well to remember also that in each volume here
presented, the research reported is on full public display and thereby makes
the staff more than usually accountable for their products.
One of the very rewarding aspects of these research undertakings has been
the experience of minds trained in the law mingling and meshing, sometimes
fiercely arguing, with other minds trained in behavioral science. The organiza-
tional structure and the substantive issues of each Task Force required mem-
bers from both groups. Intuitive judgment and the logic of argument and
organization blended, not always smoothly, with the methodology of science
and statistical reasoning. Critical and analytical faculties were sharpened as
theories confronted facts. The arrogance neither of ignorance nor of certainty
could long endure the doubts and questions of interdisciplinary debate. Any
sign of approaching the priestly pontification of scientism was quickly dis-
pelled in the matrix of mutual criticism. Years required for the normal
accumulation of experience were compressed into months of sharing ideas
with others who had equally valid but differing perspectives. Because of this
process, these volumes are much richer than they otherwise might have been.
Partly because of the freedom which the Commission gave to the Directors
of Research and the Directors of each Task Force, and partly to retain the
full integrity of the research work in publication, these reports of the Task
Forces are in the posture of being submitted to and received by the Commis-
sion. These are volumes published under the authority of the Commission,
but they do not necessarily represent the views or the conclusions of the
Commission. The Commission is presently at work producing its own report,
based in part on the materials presented to it by the Task Forces. Commission
members have, of course, commented on earlier drafts of each Task Force,
and have caused alterations by reason of the cogency of their remarks and
insights. But the final responsibility for what is contained in these volumes
rests fully and properly on the research staffs who labored on them.
In this connection, we should like to acknowledge the special leadership of
the Chairman, Dr. Milton S. Eisenhower, in formulating and supporting the
principle of research freedom and autonomy under which this work has been
conducted.
We note, finally, that these volumes are in many respects incomplete and
tentative. The urgency with which papers were prepared and then integrated
into Task Force Reports rendered impossible the successive siftings of data
and argument to which the typical academic article or volume is subjected.
The reports have benefited greatly from the counsel of our colleagues on the
Advisory Panel, and from much debate and revision from within the staff. It
is our hope, that the total work effort of the Commission staff will be the
source and subject of continued research by scholars in the several disciplines,
as well as a useful resource for policymakers. We feel certain that public
policy and the disciplines will benefit greatly from such further work.
To the Commission, and especially to its Chairman, for the opportunity
they provided for complete research freedom, and to the staff for its prodi-
gious and prolific work, we, who were intermediaries and servants to both,
are most grateful.
James F. Short, Jr. Marvin E. Wolfgang
Directors of Research
INTRODUCTION
This report of the San Francisco State College Study Team concerning the
San Francisco State College strike was prepared under my direction at the re-
quest of the National Commission on the Causes and Prevention of Violence.
It is largely the product of three highly trained, exceptionally gifted writers
and fact gatherers: James Brann, Michael Parker, and Austin Scott. These
men wrote most of the report from information obtained by them from ex-
amination of pertinent records, interviews, and on-the-spot observation.
The report draws no conclusions from the tragic events that overtook San
Francisco State in the fall and winter of 1968-69. It was conceived and ex-
ecuted, except for the comments in chapter VII entitled "Outlook for the
Future," as a history of one of the most distressing episodes in American
higher education.
More than 400 individual interviews were made by teams of trained inter-
viewers directed by Messrs. Brann, Parker, and Scott. These interviews in-
cluded State College trustees, administrators, legislators, law enforcement
personnel, community leaders, public officials, faculty members, and students
in the San Francisco Bay Area, Los Angeles, and in Sacramento.
Over 1,200 newspaper articles were accumulated and studied (newspaper
articles have not been used as sole sources of information in this report except
where specifically so indicated); the photographic files of San Francisco's two
daily newspapers were reviewed; and many days were spent on the campus
viewing the actual physical confrontation.
In this undertaking, the team received the fullest cooperation from the
Governor of California, the mayor of San Francisco, the Federal Bureau of
Investigation, the San Francisco Police Department, the chancellor of the
State college systems, the trustees of the California State colleges, the acting
president of San Francisco State College, the academic deans, other faculty
members, legislators, public officials, and many student leaders and interested
persons in the community.
The report could not have been compiled without the very useful and
imaginative work of the Team's administrative officer, Mrs. Janet Brune, and
the full-time assistance of researchers Bruce Pollock, Douglas Haydel, Robert
Young, and William Zeidler.
Finally, I am grateful to Jack Abbott and the able staff of the Commission,
including particularly Messrs. James Campbell, William McDonald, Joseph
Laitin, and Ronald Wolk, for their help and valuable counsel.
William H. Orrick, Jr.
Director, San Francisco State College Study Team
May 15, 1969.
"Words changed their ordinary meanings and were construed in new senses.
Reckless daring passed for the courage of a loyal partisan, far-sighted hesita-
tion was the excuse of a coward, moderation was the pretext of the unmanly,
the power to see all sides of a question was complete inability to act. Impul-
sive rashness was held the mark of a man, caution in conspiracy was a specious
excuse for avoiding action. A violent attitude was always to be trusted, its op-
ponents were suspect. ... So civil war gave birth to every kind of iniquity in
the Greek world. Simplicity, the chief ingredient in a noble nature, was ridi-
culed and disappeared, and society was divided into rival camps in which no
man trusted his fellow."
Thucydides, History of the Peloponnesian War [discussion of the
social revolution at Corey ra] ,417 B.C.
CONTENTS
Page
PARTI
Preface v
Introduction i x
Map of Campus xiii
Chapter I-Why San Francisco State College? 1
Chapter II-What is San Francisco State College? 3
Chapter III-The System 7
Centralization of Authority 8
Lack of Parity 9
Lack of Financial Flexibility 11
Lack of a Faculty Voice 12
The Faculty-Chancellor Relationship 14
Chapter IV Conditions at San Francisco State Before
the Strike 17
President Summerskill 19
End of an Era 20
The Uneasy Autumn of 1967 21
The Trustees' Increasing Concern 25
President Summerskill Resigns 27
President Robert Smith 30
George Murray 30
The Student Union 33
Murray's Speech 34
Chapter V-The Strike 37
Life on Strike 38
Strike Turning Point 41
A Campus Cannot be Closed 45
The Convocations 51
President Smith Resigns 54
Acting President Hayakawa 55
Life on Strike Continues 59
A Brief Respite 62
More Life on Strike 63
Attempts to Bargain 64
The Strike Ends . 70
Page
PART II
Chapter VI-The Black Community and the Reasons
Underlying the Actions of the Black
Student Strike Leaders 71
The Changed Attitudes of the Black
Community Leaders 71
Minority Enrollment 75
Birth of the BSU 77
Student Activists the San Francisco State Tradition. . . 82
BSU, a Going Thing 86
The New Nonwhite Student Leader 90
Community Involvement 96
Third World Liberation Front 100
White Support Groups 104
Frustrations on the Rise 1 06
The Incidents Pile Up 109
Moving on Black Studies 115
A Different Point of View 124
On the Brink 125
Strike Tactics and Goals 128
The Case for Black Studies 135
Chapter VII-The Outlook for the Future 141
Governor Ronald Reagan 1 44
Mayor Joseph Alioto 145
Acting President Hayakawa 147
Appendix 1 Ten Demands of the Black Students Union. ... 151
Appendix 2 Comment on the Police 153
Appendix 3 Board of Trustees of the California
State Colleges 155
Appendix 4 A Conceptual Proposal for a Department of
Black Studies 159
Appendix 5 San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle
accounts of student strike settlement,
March 2 1-23, 1969 . 169
xii
Xlll
Chapter I
WHY SAN FRANCISCO STATE
COLLEGE?
Late in the afternoon of November 5, 1968, a group of black students
presented San Francisco State College President Robert R. Smith with a list
of 10 "nonnegotiable" demands (the demands are listed in app. 1). The list
had already been published in the daily newspapers. Among other things, the
black students ordered the college to establish at once a black studies depart-
ment with 20 full-time faculty members. They insisted that the new depart-
ment be controlled by its faculty and staff, free from interference by college
administrators or the statewide Board of Trustees.
The students also demanded that the college accept all Negroes who apply
for admission in the fall of 1969 without regard to the academic qualifications
of the applicants. And they insisted that Black Panther minister of education,
George Mason Murray, 22, a graduate student, be reinstated as part-time Eng-
lish instructor. Murray had inflamed California's political leadership and the
board of trustees with speeches in which he described the American flag as
"toilet paper" and said that black students should carry guns on campus to
protect themselves from "racist administrators." Under orders from State
College Chancellor Glenn S. Dumke, President Smith had reluctantly sus-
pended Murray on November 1.
Unwilling to agree to all of the students' demands, President Smith offered
to discuss them with the black students. They refused, insisting on a yes-or-
no answer.
On November 6, the black students, their demands unmet, launched a
strike against San Francisco State College. A week later, 65 faculty members
joined the students on the picket lines.
In the following weeks, San Francisco State College was the scene of vio-
lence unmatched in the history of American higher education. The campus
became the first to be occupied by police on a continuous basis over several
months, and it was only the daily presence of 200 to 600 policemen which
kept the college open from the start of the strike on November 6 to the end
of the fall semester. Even so, the campus had to be closed on three occasions
during late 1968. (A comment on the police is contained in app. 2.)
By the end of the semester on January 31, 1969, there had been 731 ar-
rests on campus; more than 80 students were reported injured as they were
arrested, and others were hurt and not arrested. Thirty-two policemen were
injured on the campus. Damage to campus buildings exceeded $16,000; there
were scores of small fires and a major one in a vice president's office. Eight
bombs were planted on campus, and two firebombs were hurled at and into
2 Shut It Down!
the home of an assistant to the president. In mid-February, a campus guard
received head injuries from a bomb that exploded at the entrance to the ad-
ministration building. Three weeks later, on March 5, 1969, a 19-year-old
Negro sophomore in social sciences was partially blinded and maimed when
a time bomb-which police said he was installing exploded in the Creative
Arts Building. Ordnance specialists discovered two other bombs, one of them
with six sticks of dynamite, in a nearby room.
But why did all this happen at San Francisco State College? San Francisco
State was and is one of the most liberal institutions in this country in terms of
active student participation in the administration of the affairs of the college.
For example, the students controlled a budget on the order of $400,000 per
year, established the first experimental college, participated in the adminis-
tration of the college through student government, and enjoyed more freedom
than most other college students. The administration, far from being rigid,
was very flexible. Although during the 2 years preceding the strike the San
Francisco State campus had been disrupted on numerous occasions by pro-
testing and demonstrating students, these events generally, like those on other
campuses, were episodes involving an issue, such as antiwar protest, or a spe-
cific campus problem.
Why, then, did the San Francisco State College strike become the first sus-
tained assault on an institution by its students, embroiling, as it did, not only
the faculty, administrators, trustees, students, and alumni, but also political
leaders of the city and the State, and the off-campus community?
This report addresses itself to answering this question, and in so doing pro-
vides insights into some of the causes of the ever-growing campus protests in
the United States. It focuses on the underlying reasons for the strike as they
emerge from a description of the educational system and the attitudes of those
involved. It presents, as objectively as possible, the attitudes of some represen-
tatives of the various groups which were embroiled in the controversy.
The first part of the report (chs. I-V) describes the California system of
higher education and San Francisco State College, the conditions which ob-
tained there prior to the strike, and the strike. Because the student strike
leadership was centered in the Black Student Union, the second part of the
report (ch. VI) deals with the black community and some of the reasons under-
lying the actions of the black student strike leaders. This is followed by a
brief comment on the outlook for the future (ch. VII) and appendices con-
taining a list of the demands (app. 1), a comment on the police (app. 2), a list
of the trustees of the California State colleges (app. 3), and a summary of the
proposed Black Studies Program (app. 4).
We begin with a description of San Francisco State College.
Chapter II
WHAT IS SAN FRANCISCO
STATE COLLEGE?
Barren's Profiles of American Universities and Colleges describes
San Francisco State as follows:
San Francisco State College, established in 1889, is a publicly-
supported liberal arts college occupying a 94-acre campus within San
Francisco. It has a faculty of 664 members, 479 of whom hold doc-
torates. It has a library containing 355,000 volumes and 2,500 period-
icals. It serves a student body drawn mainly from California but 6% of
the students come from other places.
In addition to its program in the liberal arts, the College offers stu-
dents who have finished 2 to 4 years of liberal arts work, a complete
junior and senior program of training as elementary school teachers.
This program is carried on at the Santa Rosa Center. The College also
has off-campus centers at Hamilton Field Air Base and at the Presidio
of San Francisco for service personnel seeking B.A. degrees. . . .
The College has a plant valued at over $18 million. Its facilities in-
clude dormitory accommodations for 400 men and 400 women and
institutional apartments for 72 married couples. Among its notable
buildings is its Creative Arts Building which has facilities for teaching
radio and television, an 1,800-seat auditorium equipped with stereo-
phonic sound and an elevator orchestra pit, a little theatre with a stage
capable of containing five wagon sets, and a theater-in-the-round.
The majority of the students are commuters, with only 3% housed
in the campus dormitory. About 3% of the students are members of
Greek letter organizations but these do not provide housing. Honor
students on this campus may become eligible for membership in Sigma
Xi, and numerous departmental national honorary groups.
Athletic activities are varsity football, basketball, baseball, track,
swimming, water polo, soccer, cross-country, fencing, wrestling, tennis
and golf.
Of the entering classes, 18% drop out at the end of the first year and
33% remain to graduate.
Religious organizations are available to students of all major faiths.
The College operates on the semester basis and offers a summer ses-
sion. It is accredited by the Western Assoc., the American Chemical
Society, and the National League for Nursing.
Programs of Study: The College confers the degrees of B.A., B.S.,
B. Voc. Ed., and B.E. Major fields of concentration are Anthropology,
355-234 0-69-2
4 Shut It Down!
American Studies, Bacteriology, Biology, Botany, Business Administra-
tion, Classics, Chemistry, Comparative Education, Comparative Litera-
ture, Dramatic Arts, Engineering, Economics, English, Fine Arts, Geog-
raphy, Government, History, Home Economics, Industrial Arts,
Journalism, Language and Area Studies, Literature, Mathematics, Music,
Nursing, Philosophy, Psychology, Physics, Romance Languages, Soci-
ology, Speech, Speech Pathology, Social Work, Special Education,
Statistics, Elementary Education, Secondary Education, Higher Edu-
cation, and Zoology. Juniors are permitted to study abroad.
Expenses: There is no tuition for state residents; fees are approxi-
mately $120 yearly; out-of-state students pay an additional $720.
Room and board are $880.
Aid is limited but loans are available from the federal government,
local banks, the College, and private funds. The average amount of aid
from loans is $600 and the maximum, combined with campus employ-
ment, is $1,500.
Admissions: ... It is to the student's advantage to be able to present
advanced placement or honor courses, and it is most important that rec-
ords be accompanied by recommendations from the high school author-
ities. Other considerations are personal impressions, extracurricular
activities, and leadership potential.
To call San Francisco State a college is misleading for it is much more like
a university, with its 18,000 students, 63 types of bachelor's degree, 44 mas-
ter's degree programs, and doctorates in education.
For several years in the mid-1960's it appeared that San Francisco State's
administrators, students, and faculty had discovered the formula for campus
peace. Neither the 1964 nor the 1966 disturbances at Berkeley had spread
across the Bay to San Francisco State. During the 1966 troubles at Berkeley,
San Francisco State students had helped militants at the university prepare
press releases, but when asked by a reporter at the time if the revolt might
spread to San Francisco State, a student replied: "No. Why should it? We
have free speech, and we're treated like adults."
Many of the college's students are adults; the average age is 25 years. More-
over, San Francisco State is a trolley-car college, serving thousands of older
students who pursue their studies while working full time off campus.
In the fall of 1961, long before the turmoil at Berkeley and long before
other campuses worried about student rights, San Francisco State adopted a
policy statement for dealing with students. A key paragraph read:
At San Francisco State College, students are respected as adults and
citizens of the community and, as such, have all the rights and respon-
sibilities of adults and citizens to participate in college and community
affairs. These rights and responsibilities are to be jealously guarded and
fulfilled.
This was no idle promise. The student government at San Francisco State
has long had control of large budgets derived from student fees. The money
has gone to support athletic programs, student newspapers, theater groups,
ghetto tutorial programs, an experimental college, the Black Student Union,
or whatever else students chose. The Associated Students of San Francisco
What is San Francisco State College? 5
State College, Inc., controlled a budget of $482,771 in 1966-67; the budget
totaled $501 ,096 in 1967-68, and in the current year it is well over $400,000.
When other colleges were preventing students from inviting controversial
figures to speak on campus, San Francisco State students heard such persons
as Communist theoretician Herbert Aptheker and American Nazi Party leader
George Lincoln Rockwell.
The college reflects the city in which it lives. San Francisco is recognized
as a national example of urbanity; it is a geographically compact, freeswing-
ing town with a polyglot population including substantial black, Oriental, and
Spanish-speaking communities. The college is also cosmopolitan, with stu-
dents from all minorities and all classes. It is squeezed into an area adequate
for an institution a fourth of its size. Although it nestles in the midst of a
white middle-class neighborhood, the campus is a few minutes away from
three of the city's poorest neighborhoods.
San Francisco State has long been a forerunner in educational innovation
and student trends. The Nation's first successful experimental college (where
students design courses and teach other students) was founded there in 1965.
Today, more than 400 other campuses have similar experimental colleges.
The first Black Student Union (BSU) in the country was born at San Francisco
State in March 1966, and it evolved from the Negro Students Association,
chartered in 1963. The Third World Liberation Front an amalgamation of
Latin- American, Mexican-American, Negro, Asian-American, Chinese, and
Filipino student groups also began there in 1968.
The college moved faster than any other institution in beginning black studies
courses and in accepting the ideal of a black studies department. Despite tight
budgets and active disapproval of some trustees and politicans, the administration
endorsed and encouraged students to develop the experimental college which
attracted the attention of foundation and Government officials. This and
other student-run, student-financed programs received national publicity a few
years ago as examples of what responsible student government could produce.
Thus it is understandable that the position of San Francisco State's ad-
ministrators in the fall of 1968 was one of puzzlement, frustration, and anger.
They had moved faster than any other college or university in beginning black
studies courses and in accepting the idea of a black studies department. They
had endorsed and given encouragement to the student-founded experimental
college and related programs well ahead of other institutions of higher learn-
ing. And they had done this in an era of tight budgets and what they regarded
as unwarranted interference from the governing Board of Trustees and the
State's political leaders.
The students see themselves as noble people fighting battles to uplift the
nonwhite races and promote reforms or revolution that will produce a better
way of life. Officials who slow down or interfere with this process are branded
enemies of the people.
The administrators of San Francisco State College do not, of course, view
themselves as enemies of the people. Nor do they consider themselves re-
actionary gatekeepers of the Establishment. Quite the contrary. They point
out (accurately) that the college has been in the forefront of change.
Students across the Nation are now agitating to convert their own institu-
tion into the kind of college that San Francisco State was, in large measure,
between 1960 and 1966.
Chapter III
THE SYSTEM
In view of its progressive attitude and action, San Francisco State might
reasonably have expected to escape the kind of student unrest and turbulence
that has swept the nation's campuses in recent years. There were, however,
severe stresses within the college and the statewide system some shared by
most of America's colleges and universities, some peculiar to the California
State colleges and San Francisco State. Chief among the internal strains were
problems of structure and governance problems which not only contribute
to tension on a campus, but which hamper the peaceful resolution of dis-
putes. To understand the tragic sequence of events leading up to the present
student strike, it is necessary to understand the structure of San Francisco
State and the way in which it is governed.
San Francisco State is part of the 18-college system in California. The
colleges were established on an individual basis as "normal schools" for
teacher training. In 1920, the legislature placed them under the jurisdiction
of the State board of education as a means of developing a statewide system
of teachers' colleges. Fifteen years later, they were renamed "State colleges"
and broadened to include programs other than teacher training. Until 1961,
however, the colleges remained basically independent and separately financed
institutions with emphasis on teacher education.
By the late 1950's, higher education in California had become somewhat
chaotic. The competition for funds, programs, and prestige among the State
colleges, the multibranch university, and the rapidly growing network of junior
colleges had become intense. The legislature was besieged with requests from
colleges, universities, and junior colleges for more funds and new programs.
To remedy this situation and to mobilize the State's resources toward provid-
ing low-cost, high-quality education for all, the California Legislature enacted
the Donahoe Higher Education Act of 1960 a master plan for higher educa-
tion in California.
The California master plan was a bold and pioneering venture, hailed (and
imitated to varying degrees) by educators across the country. It embodied a
curious paradox: The plan epitomized the notion of "democracy's colleges"
by providing virtually free education for all of California's youth; it also
recommended, however, a classification of students by ability, with the
upper \2 l /i percent eligible for the university, the upper third eligible for
the State colleges, and anyone with a high school diploma free to attend
junior colleges. Thus, the master plan was designed to distribute educational
functions among the university, the State colleges, and the junior colleges.
The primary mission of the State colleges was to be undergraduate education.
8 Shut It Down!
To govern the State colleges, a Board of Trustees was established, with 16
members appointed for 8-year terms by the Governor, and five ex officio
members: the Governor, the Lieutenant Governor, Speaker of the California
Assembly, State superintendent of public instruction, and the chancellor of
the State college system. (A list of the members of the Board of Trustees is
contained in app. III.)
The chancellor of the system and all vice chancellors are appointed by the
trustees. Each college is administered by a president, also appointed by the
trustees. Although local faculty committees advise the trustees in the selec-
tion of a president, they have no statutory power, and the authority rests
with the board. The responsibility for appointing faculty lies with the
individual college presidents, but, in fact, academic departments hire the
faculty, subject to a rarely used veto power of the president. Thus the
screening of potential faculty and employees on a personal basis has been
left almost entirely to the heads of the various departments on the college
campuses. The ultimate authority in personnel matters remains with the
trustees, and they have the power to order the transfer or suspension of a
professor.
In theory, the master plan promised harmony and efficiency in organiza-
tion and governance under a rational division of labor among the State's insti-
tutions of higher learning and a realistic classification of students by academic
ability. In practice, the master plan has contributed to the friction on the
campuses of California.
Some of the problems created by the master plan and its administration
have had serious impact upon San Francisco State. Chief among these are
problems resulting from the lack of the centralization of authority, the lack
of parity with the University of California, the lack of financial flexibility,
the lack of a faculty voice, and, finally, the faculty-chancellor relationship.
PROBLEMS CREATED BY THE CENTRALIZATION OF AUTHORITY
Bringing the originally separate and independent State colleges together
under a single managing executive, the chancellor, was bound to leave some
scars. In any organization, the centralization of management authority
necessarily means some loss of prerogatives and power for those who operate
at the local level.
While the chancellor describes the system as "far more a federation than
an empire," there are many who would reverse the emphasis. Perhaps most
important is the fact that the chancellor's office serves as staff for the trustees.
Like so many other committees and commissions, the Board of Trustees is
very largely a prisoner of the information provided by the staff operation.
It is the chancellor's office that fundamentally controls the agenda for the
trustees' meetings, and the content of the reports they read. In short, the
chancellor controls most of the meaningful access to the Board of Trustees.
The mammoth budget of the State college system (the 1969 request to
the legislature is $268 million) works its way upward from the individual
campuses through the chancellor's office. The colleges no longer can seek
support in Sacramento on the basis of local political strength. Because the
State colleges use a line-item budget, the power of the chancellor's office
extends ultimately to the major decisions regarding personnel and academic
The System
program (although not to individual appointments). The resentment
normally felt against those who deny budget requests is directed now at the
chancellor and the trustees. "We are always the people who have to say no;
we are always in a negative position," said one member of the chancellor's
staff, "we can never say 'yes, this is how you do something, and here's some
money for your new program.' '
The chancellor's staff numbers around 215 persons; it operates on an annual
budget of some $3.7 million; it is housed on several floors of a Los Angeles
skyscraper. Perhaps out of a desire to maintain the image of federation,
rather than empire, the staff has remained relatively small for a $250 million
enterprise. According to one campus administrator, however, the combina-
tion of a small staff and the tremendous growth of the State college system
has created a massive bottleneck at the chancellor's office.
Notwithstanding these difficulties, those who seek increased campus
autonomy must deal with the chancellor's argument that only a master plan
structure, with its divisions of functions among the university, colleges, and
junior colleges, gives the teaching institution a fighting chance to compete for
funds with the research-oriented university. Without question, the State
college system has received a continued high level of financial support under
the central administration. While campus autonomy proponents must concede
as much, they argue that it would not, on the other hand, be impossible to
give up a degree of decision-making power to the campuses. The idea of in-
creased campus autonomy has some support among the trustees.
PROBLEMS CREATED BY LACK OF PARITY WITH
THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
One observer in the University of California's administration said: "There
is an Avis (as in 'we're number two') paranoia which permeates the State
college system." The "paranoia" does not necessarily result in those who
make up the college system "trying harder." More frequently, it is the cause
of serious friction between the faculty, the governing trustees, and the
chancellor. The faculties would have chafed under the newly imposed central
governance in any event. But the inferiority complex of the State college
faculties has multiplied many times over the difficulty of transition.
Even the trustees have the feeling they are "number two." It had been
recommended in the master plan that trustees be given constitutional status,
like regents of the University of California. But that recommendation was
rejected by the legislature; the State colleges and their governing board remain
creatures of the legislature, theoretically subject to abolition at any time.
When the colleges were brought together under the master-plan legislation,
there were ardent advocates of changing the name of the institutions to the
California State University, and creating a parallel structure with the Univer-
sity of California system. The drive for a name change continues to this day,
and the chancellor is one of its supporters. The name change would be
mostly symbolic. But underlying the desire for formal designation as a
university are problems that are deep sources of faculty discontent and that
prevent effective recruiting and retention of qualified faculty.
Workload is perhaps the most basic of these problems. It became a key
issue in the American Federation of Teachers' strike at San Francisco State.
10
Shut It Down!
The average workload of a State college teacher is 1 2 units, higher than the
average for the University of California campuses. The AFT wants a reduc-
tion in the State college workload to nine. From the teacher's standpoint,
the heavier the teaching load, the more time spent in the classroom and in
preparation for teaching, the less time there is for research. From a system
standpoint, however, teaching load and the budget for faculty salaries are op-
posite sides of the same coin. A 25-percent reduction in the teaching load
must be compensated for by a comparable increase in budget for faculty sala-
ries, an increase in class size, or a reduction in full-time enrollment. The chan-
cellor appreciates the seriousness of the problem. He believes that specializa-
tion of the State colleges primarily as teaching institutions will receive genuine
acceptance from the faculty only if there is parity of compensation for
comparable work.
Another problem is the nature, quality, and extent of the graduate program.
Top-quality faculty want the challenge of teaching in a good graduate program
and the opportunity to conduct research. But the purpose of the master plan
was to specialize the functions of the State colleges primarily as undergraduate
teaching institutions. The University of California, as a research-oriented
institution, was to conduct most of the doctoral training. The university
wants undergraduates, and the college system wants a graduate program, but,
in general, responsibilities have so far been worked out along the lines of the
master plan. The solution has been a "cooperative" graduate program, under
which the Ph.D. degree is granted in the name of the University of California,
although the work is done at a State college. It is just one more morsel which
feeds the teachers' feelings of second-class status.
The chancellor is clearly on record in favor of moving toward increasing
parity with the University of California. He really has no choice, since it is
on these issues that the State colleges' recruiting drive falters, and it is for
these reasons that the system is experiencing an increasing rate of faculty
turnover. In 1968, the system had to recruit almost 3,000 new faculty mem-
bers; in 1969, the figure may be higher.
In his "Fifth Annual Report to the Governor and the Legislature on
Personnel Matters" in January 1968, the chancellor cited the colleges' decreas-
ing ability to recruit qualified faculty. There has been a continued, steady
decrease in the proportion of newly recruited full-time faculty who hold the
doctorate, generally regarded by the academic profession as the mark of
qualification. "Parity" issues salary, teaching load, and research opportuni-
tieswere the reasons most frequently cited among a group of 1,206 pro-
spective faculty for rejecting offers of appointment. There was also evidence
of the colleges' increasing inability to retain faculty. The turnover rate
climbed steadily from 8.8 percent in 1963-64 to 10.6 percent in 1966-67.
The chancellor's office surveyed faculty salaries in 18 comparable institu-
tions in 1966-67. As a result of a similar survey in 1967-68, the chancellor
recommended to the Coordinating Council, the Governor, and the legislature
an average salary budget increase of 12.8 percent, a figure which was intended
to put the State colleges on a par with most comparable institutions, and to
stem the loss of faculty. The chancellor's recommendation was not accepted
by the Coordinating Council which, on December 2, 1968, made its own
recommendation for a salary increase of only 5.2 percent.
The System 11
PROBLEMS CREATED BY LACK OF FINANCIAL FLEXIBILITY
The State colleges operate on a line-item system of budgeting, common
with public agencies. This system prevented the central administration at
one point from spending $281 ,000 to correct an erroneous reduction in
faculty salary checks even though literally millions of dollars remained un-
expended in the huge budget. In another instance, administrators were
required to scrape up funds from every available pocket in the entire State-
college system in order to meet a $300,000 deficit at San Francisco State.
While the Department of Finance is allowing the colleges some in-
creased flexibility, the line-item budgeting method severely limits the ability
of the college system and its individual campuses to make program changes
with any reasonable degree of speed. Nor does State-college budgeting pro-
vide a way to meet emergencies and special needs; the trustees have sought
contingency funds, but have been denied. Finally, the State colleges have
no independent endowment. All of this should be seen against the back-
ground of a budgetary process which consumes 2 years from program
development to program funding.
The budget of each individual school and of the State colleges as a whole
depends on the estimated full-time enrollment. The task of estimating
enrollments for budget purposes begins in January each year, 1 /4 years
prior to the budget year involved. Each school prepares its estimate which
it then discusses with the chancellor's office. After revisions are made, the
colleges submit their final estimates to the chancellor's office in October.
The chancellor then submits the estimates to the Department of Finance
and the Office of the Legislative Analyst. The estimates may again be
modified before they are included in the Governor's proposed budget.
Following legislative consideration and action, the budget is sent back
to the Governor for his approval, which he can exercise with an item veto
which permits the rejection of specific budget items. The funds which
are finally approved are allocated among the various schools by the
chancellor according to the previous estimates.
The line-item budget limits the use of funds to the specific functions
and categories for which they have been budgeted. Rigidity has been reduced
to some extent in the last few years. The Department of Finance now allows
funds to be shifted by the trustees from one campus to another so long as
they are used for the same function (e.g., capital expansion, faculty salaries,
etc.). If more money is needed for faculty at San Diego State, faculty-
budgeted funds from Fresno State can be used; but amounts budgeted for
capital expenditures at any campus cannot be used for salaries.
Along with this relatively rigid system of budgeting, the State colleges
have no reserve for contingencies. Coupled with a 2-year lag in the budget,
this greatly restricts the ability of the colleges and the trustees to deal with
unexpected problems.
An example of the difficulties created by the lack of flexibility occurred
a few years ago. The chancellor's office had underestimated the amount
needed for faculty salaries by 1 .8 percent and therefore were forced to
withhold an equivalent amount from faculty salary checks. There was a
considerable surplus in other areas of the budget, but the Department of
Finance would not permit its use. There were promises of relief from the
12 Shut It Down!
legislature, but the promises were not kept. Since there were no contingency
funds and the surplus could not be used, the faculty simply ended up 1 .8 per-
cent short.
The scars from this incident remain (if indeed the wounds have ever
healed). Feelings run so high that faculty, trustees and administrators all
refer to it as "the famous-one-point-eight-percent-incident!" It is prominent
among the grievances cited by the statewide academic senate in their review
of the faculty-chancellor relationship.
In marked contrast, the University of California receives a lump-sum
budget with only few functional categories. Added to this is the fact that
the university has accumulated a large reserve fund. These differences give
the board of regents of the University of California much greater flexibility.
Thus, the study team was told that University of California President Charles
Hitch recently was able to obtain $500,000 in a matter of weeks to fund a
previously unbudgeted "urban crisis" program.
The financial flexibility of the State colleges has been increasing, but
probably not fast enough at a time of rapid social change. It must be re-
peated that there is a 2-year lag between the time a budget is estimated
and when it becomes effective. Thus, funds for new, unbudgeted programs,
such as a department of black studies, at a specific campus must be found
within the same categories in the budgets of other State colleges, or the
campus must reorder its own priorities.
An individual campus can, however, reorder priorities if programs such
as black studies are of sufficient importance. For example, new positions
allocated to San Francisco State in the spring of 1968 for the expansion
and improvement of the graduate program were shifted over for the imple-
mentation of a new trustee-approved "Educational Opportunity Program."
This permitted the college to admit up to 423 students who did not rank
in the top third of their high school graduating class. In the current attempt
to create a black studies department at San Francisco State, the 1 1 .3 posi-
tions which have been allocated for the new department were "donated"
by various existing departments within the college.
While the reordering of priorities is possible, it is not easy; departments
are understandably reluctant to give up faculty positions and thus to give
up courses taught in their departments or increase the teaching load of
the remaining faculty. Significantly, one of the issues raised by the AFT
in its strike was a demand for the "return" of the 1 1 .3 positions donated
to the black studies program.
PROBLEMS CREATED BY THE LACK OF A FACULTY VOICE
Six organizations are competing with one another, vying for influence over
the statewide academic senate and the right to be the voice of the 10,000
State college faculty members. As a result, there is no clear and consistent
faculty voice. Even the academic senate, whose executive committee attends
the trustees' meetings, cannot claim to speak for all the faculty. The organiza-
tions range widely in their general philosophical bent from the activist
American Federation of Teachers to the moderately conservative American
Association of University Professors.
Everyone seems to recognize the need for some clear and consistent,
representative faculty voice, but approaches differ sharply. The chancellor
The System 13
and the majority of the trustees would favor the statewide academic senate
as the representative organization. The academic senate came into existence
largely through the efforts of Chancellor Glenn S. Dumke. And, while "a
certain breed of academic politicans" has turned the academic senate into
an unruly stepchild, both the chancellor and the trustees continue to favor
the senate as the basic instrument of faculty governance. Their reasoning is
that the academic senate is a structure in which all faculty are entitled to
participate because they are State college teachers. Those who object to
this approach argue that the academic senate is a "captive" organization,
dependent for funds upon the Board of Trustees, whose annual budget
carries an appropriation for the senate.
Sharpening the competition to represent the faculty is the drive for collec-
tive bargaining, a development which extends far beyond the California State
colleges. There have been garbage collection strikes in Nashville and New
York, the "thin flu line" of the police slowdown in New York City, and
teachers' strikes in various cities across the country. Even as this report was
being prepared, San Francisco faced the threat of a bus and streetcar drivers'
strike, and the possibility that such a strike might spread to other municipal
employees' unions. There is general dissatisfaction on the part of employees
in public and public-related employment, and, in broadest perspective, the
drive for collective bargaining among the California State college teachers is
a part of that larger development.
The trustees' position is that for two reasons they are unable to bargain
collectively. First, they believe there is no way in which they can commit
themselves to a binding agreement involving wages, hours, and working condi-
tions because only the legislature can provide the funds to back up such an
agreement. Second, they feel they cannot negotiate with a group which
represents only a portion of the faculty because California's Brown Act re-
quires them to meet and confer with any employee organization to discuss
conditions of employment. They argue that it is impossible for them to meet
with any group for the purpose of working toward the conclusion of a
binding agreement which would, in effect, foreclose other groups from dis-
cussing the same issues with the trustees.
The unions contend there is nothing in the law which prevents the
trustees from entering into collective bargaining, nor indeed anything which
prevents public employees from striking. The trustees succeeded in obtaining
a permanent injunction against the AFT strike at San Francisco State on
the ground that public employees have no right to strike, but, like injunctions
in other public employees' strikes in other cities, it had little effect.
The drive for collective bargaining has aggravated the difficulties at San
Francisco State. The American Federation of Teachers represents a definite
minority of the faculty. It had already been rejected once by faculty vote
at San Francisco State when the current difficulties arose in the fall of 1968.
An election was held on the campus in September 1966 to determine whether
the faculty desired collective bargaining; they voted 2 to 1 in favor of it.
Later, in December 1966, when the representation election was held, the
AFT lost heavily to a competing faculty organization, the Association of
California State College Professors (ACSCP). It is this background which
leads some people, including some of the trustees, to the judgment that the
AFT strike at San Francisco State was really an economic matter, and that
14 Shut It Down!
the union members selfishly used the student discontent to support an organiz-
ing drive.
In the long run, unless the problem of collective bargaining is resolved,
and until a clear voice for the faculty emerges, there will probably be con-
tinued discontent on the part of faculty of varying persuasions who feel
disenfranchised or underrepresented on one issue or another. The immediate
prospect is for aggressive competition among the six organizations to con-
tinue, bringing with it tensions and friction and making faculty -trustee disputes
harder to resolve.
PROBLEMS CREATED BY THE FACULTY-
CHANCELLOR RELATIONSHIP
Resentment against the chancellor and his staff goes beyond historical
patterns and institutional frictions.
Relationships between the chancellor and the faculties have long been
strained. Some of the issues contested at San Francisco State are peculiar to
that campus alone. Some of the personalities involved at San Francisco
State College are unique, and there are long-harbored animosities and
reservoirs of ill feeling which remain from Glenn Dumke's tenure as president
of the college. But aside from all the personal dislikes and animosities, in-
jured feelings, prestige, and personal grievances, there is no gainsaying the
fact that the relationship between the chancellor and the faculty today is
little more than an uneasy coexistence. It is a substantial source of friction
within the State college system.
When Glenn S. Dumke left the presidency of the college to become vice
chancellor of the newly created State college system, he made a speech in
which he told faculty and administrators that he would be watching, to
make sure that what he had created at the college remained intact. In their
view, it was a promise that he would remain a hovering presence, ruling from
afar, and indeed that is the way in which many see him today. The resent-
ment surfaced clearly when it became known that Dumke was being con-
sidered for appointment as the successor to the first chancellor, Buell
Gallagher. San Francisco State faculty members were among the leaders of
the opposition to Dumke's appointment. Some of the early critics have
persistently opposed Dumke's policies since his appointment. Overall, the
situation has come to the point where, as one college administrator put it,
the chancellor and the trustees see the San Francisco State faculty as "a
bunch of intractable rebels."
On May 24, 1968, the statewide academic senate, citing lack of communi-
cation, lack of consultation, lack of delegation, and lack of leadership, called
for Glenn Dumke's resignation as chancellor. The academic senate prepared
a report, "Review of the Relation Between the Academic Senate, CSC, and
Chancellor Glenn S. Dumke from 1962 to the Present," which set forth in
detail their complaints against the chancellor; subsequently the senate con-
ducted a statewide referendum of the faculty on the question whether the
chancellor should be asked to resign.
Of an estimated 10,000 eligible to vote, 5,931 exercised their right to do
so; 3,743 voted "no confidence," while 2,188 supported the chancellor. On
a campus-by-campus basis, only one of the 18 colleges voted for the
The System 15
chancellor. While one trustee has suggested that the friction and resentment
between the faculty and the chancellor have so impaired the chancellor's
effectiveness that he should resign or be removed, the board reaffirmed its
support for Dumke following publication of the academic senate poll results.
Chapter IV
CONDITIONS AT
SAN FRANCISCO STATE
BEFORE THE STRIKE
Faced with serious, virtually insoluble problems of structure and govern-
ance, it might be expected that the presidency of San Francisco State College
would be a hazardous position. The incredible fact is that the college has had
seven presidents since 1960; three in less than 6 months during 1968. 1 Presi-
dential succession, occurring once or twice in a decade under normal circum-
stances, can cause serious problems of adjustment in a college or university;
to have seven presidents in 8 years is tantamount to having no presidential
leadership at all. Glenn P. Smith, Vice President for business affairs at San
Francisco State, has served all seven presidents.
He told the Study Team:
There has been a terrible, terrible discontinuity of leadership at the
College. You know about the presidential problem. You don't know
about the vice-presidential problem, the dean problem, the accounting
office problem, and everything else. There are few positions in that
college, and this is not an overstatement, at the first, second, third, and
fourth levels that haven't turned over two or three or four times in the
last decade. The number of people that were there in 1958 that are still
there today in their jobs in administration could be numbered on one
hand.
Robert R. Smith, who served as president of the college between May and
November 1968, served on the presidential selection committee's meeting to
consider two of his predecessors: Paul Dodd and John Summerskill. He told
his colleagues at that time: "There is no place for a president at San Francisco
State College," and he urged them to resolve that problem even before consid-
ering candidates for the office.
The presidential problems began with the presidency of Glenn Dumke. His
predecessor, J. P. Leonard, had been somewhat autocratic. It was Dumke's
intention to give a major share of college governance to the faculty, and he
began the process by creating the institutional structure for faculty govern-
ance. Dumke, however, was occupied with the formulation of the master
plan and was an absentee president much of the time. Paul Dodd followed
Dumke, but did not assert the power of the office. John Summerskill came
to the college from Cornell. A vigorous and handsome young man with a lib-
eral style of personal leadership, he soon won support of both faculty and
17
18 Shut It Down!
students. But Summerskill dealt with a wide variety of matters personally,
rather than delegating them to his staff assistants, and he acquired the reputa-
tion of being changeable; the word went out that Summerskill's decisions
were frequently reversible. By the time Robert Smith became president in
1968, two developments had progressed to the point that his job was made
almost impossible: everyone was by then accustomed to going directly to the
president to get a problem solved; and the faculty had occupied the power
vacuum left by the lack of presidential leadership in previous years and con-
sidered that it had the power to make policy for the college. Any president
would probably have found himself in this untenable position everyone
looked to the president for decisions, but the faculty was unwilling to relin-
quish the power he needed to decide.
Finally, San Francisco State College has suffered from an exceptional lack
of workable, operational disciplinary machinery. 2 To some extent, this is a
problem common to institutions of higher education. John Summerskill told
the Board of Trustees in December 1967:
I think our whole disciplinary structure, techniques and procedures
were built for another era. As someone remarked "this is not the
panty-raid era, but of tough determined people."
Faculty grievance and disciplinary machinery is a subject of contention
throughout the California State college system, and the matter of a new
framework for faculty grievances was a major issue in the AFT strike. San
Francisco State's problems go deeper. The faculty disciplinary machinery for
San Francisco State had been worked out during the spring of 1968. When
the semester ended, it was only paper, and nothing was done to make it oper-
ational during the summer months. Thus, when the George Murray case
arose, Robert Smith was faced not only with the substance of the matter but
also with the problem of putting the disciplinary machinery into working
order.
Student disciplinary procedures were in no better condition. There was an
appeals panel, which was operational. But a student-faculty court, which
John Summerskill had been working out with the students, was not. It was
held up over a disagreement whether decisions of the student-faculty court
would be final, or whether there would be some appellate review. The stu-
dents believed that Summerskill had agreed there would be no appeal.
Whether he had or not, it was an issue with Robert Smith, who believed there
must be some form of appeal. As a result of this disagreement, the student
government refused to appoint any members to the panel until the matter of
jurisdiction was clarified. In addition, the college had a very loosely defined
code of conduct a set of rules adequate only to deal with more traditional
subjects of discipline, such as cheating, theft, and plagiarism, subjects of the
"panty-raid era" Summerskill referred to.
Many colleges or universities are not structured to deal adequately with
student discipline in the era of confrontation politics. Too many lack the
codes of conduct, the investigative machinery, and the means for student de-
fense required by a quasi-judicial disciplinary system. Nor have the thorny
problems of concurrent jurisdiction been resolved: (should the college pro-
ceed with a hearing, when the student's testimony would be admissible in a
criminal proceeding involving the same actions which are the subject of the
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 19
college disciplinary hearing?). The difficulties at San Francisco State were
infinitely compounded by the lack of operational disciplinary machinery ca-
pable of proceeding with due process when the crises arose in the fall of 1968.
These, then, were the promises and problems of San Francisco State Col-
lege in the midsixties problems complicated by the diverse personalities who
attempted to deal with them.
PRESIDENT SUMMERSKILL
When John Summerskill, 41, became president of the college in September
1966, there was still hope that San Francisco State might continue the era of
good will that had prevailed since 1960 the problems of structure and gov-
ernance notwithstanding.
Summerskill was an outstanding clinical psychologist, he had served as a
vice president for student affairs at Cornell, and he was a consultant to the
Peace Corps. He seemed an ideal choice to preside over the cosmopolitan and
aggressive campus and to pursue the cause of reform.
The college he was to lead was the only public college in the nation where
students had developed a technique to hire some of their own professors and
to get credit for courses taught by other students.
President Summerskill expressed a strong interest in innovation and the
success of the experimental college. "I'm for innovation in general education
and the undergraduate studies," he said in an interview with the student news-
paper on his arrival. "I would like to see experimentation and innovation in
teaching methods so we can figure how best to help a person become a differ-
ent person by the time he leaves college."
In the interview, Summerskill praised the experimental college and gave
much of the credit for it to James Nixon, student body president. He would
later discover that not all of San Francisco State's students were as construc-
tive as those who built and ran the experimental college. And he would find
that while the experimental program helped the college's national image,
some of its courses dealing with sex, revolution, drugs, guerrilla warfare, and
socialism-proved a constant irritant to California legislators.
Even when student unrest, particularly over the Vietnam war, began to in-
crease on the campus in the fall of 1966, Summerskill recognized that the
campuses mirror the troubles and strains of America's urbanized society. He
agreed with his Vice President Glenn Smith who had said earlier:
It is totally unfair for the public at large and its elected officials to
blame the campuses for changing kids for creating problems when
city governments are wrestling with all the same kinds of problems, for
the most part unsuccessfully. It is unfair to think we can be an island
of tranquillity and calm when we draw our students from troubled
cities in a troubled society. It is not college that makes them that way.
SummerskiU's insights, the aspirations, the past successes, however, were
not sufficient to withstand the tide of discontent that rolled across the cam-
puses. As 1966 drew to a close, the era of good will and successful student-
administration relations at San Francisco State also drew to a close. Revolt
was about to replace reform; the struggle for the college was about to begin in
earnest.
355-234 O -
20 Shut It Down!
END OF AN ERA
San Francisco State's era of good will and successful student-administration
relations appeared to come to a close with an SDS-sponsored boycott of the
student cafeteria in late 1966. "That marked the end of responsible student
government." recalls one administrator. The SDS, long ignored by the mass
of students and the student government at San Francisco State, called for a
boycott of the student cafeteria, on the issues of poor food, high prices, and
overcrowded conditions. The boycott got off to a slow start, and the SDS
stationed large male students at the cafeteria door to argue with those who
entered.
As support for the issue grew, student government officers were forced to
decide where they stood. Those in power at the time would have preferred to
ignore the SDS-created issue and continue work with their experimental col-
lege and other programs. But political realities intruded, and student govern-
ment leaders joined the boycott resulting in the overhaul of the campus
foundation that runs the cafeteria.
Throughout the spring of 1967, white radicals kept the pressure on Presi-
dent Summerskill on antiwar issues often attracting white-moderate support,
and the blacks pressed for a black studies program. Some 30 to 40 SDS pick-
ets attempted to disrupt his inauguration in early May by heckling the proces-
sional march and shouting at intervals throughout the ceremony: "End class
rank." and "military off the campus" and "warmongers."
Students confronted Summerskill in his office several times during the
spring. In a brief April 26, 1967, sit-in, Summerskill told the antidraft stu-
dents that he disliked the war in Vietnam and agreed that the draft system
was unfair, but said he did not have the authority to halt submission of stu-
dent performance and ranking to draft boards. He pointed out that the col-
leges had been instructed by the chancellor's office to submit such rankings.
The students argued that he should defy authority and refuse to submit the
rankings. They said that changes are produced only by defying authority.
"That's your politics," answered President Summerskill. "You might be
right sometimes, but I don't accept that."
There were several protests against military recruiters that spring-and the
combination of these events angered some of San Francisco State's conserva-
tive students, who felt they had long been ignored by the student government
and the administration. They began to bring pressure from the other side of
the spectrum. They put together a coalition and won the student government
election against a Negro opponent in the spring of 1967 and they succeeded
in getting some cutbacks in hoped-for appropriations for the experimental
college and other programs. Even the campus election victory did not give
conservative students much influence or voice at the college. Their new presi-
dent blocked much of his conservative legislature's proposals, and the 1968
election returned the liberal, pro-experimental college "programs" coalition
to power.
However, the conservative students were able to add to the headaches of
President Summerskill. In May 1967, the new student government charged
the Black Students Union with "reverse racism," misuse of student funds, and
threats of violence. They visited Max Rafferty, California's superintendent of
public instruction and a trustee of the State colleges, and other State officials
to describe their charges.
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 21
As a result of the student accusations, the Board of Trustees sent a com-
mittee to investigate the BSD and related student financial affairs at San
Francisco State. The committee found there was not enough evidence to sup-
port the charges, but recommended that the college tighten up its student dis-
ciplinary procedures and fiscal controls.
The summer issue of Open Process, a campus newspaper containing poems
and essays on sex, and a photo of a reclining nude, was mailed by conservative
students to politicians and trustees. The criticism from Sacramento resulted
in a brief suspension of the newspaper, and Summerskill had to devote much
time in the early fall of 1967 calming outraged politicians and answering let-
ters from angry citizens.
College presidents were not the only recipients of such letters. The mem-
bers of the Board of Trustees were receiving an increasing amount of mail ex-
pressing displeasure with the situation on the campuses. Much of the campus
protest was directed at the Vietnam war, and many people saw the dissent as
unpatriotic. Emotions ran high in the autumn months of 1967, as supporters
and opponents of the Asian conflict clashed in marches, demonstrations, and
name-calling sessions across the country. The campuses mirrored the tensions
in the society at large; "the war" and "racism" were the issues. The conflicts
and contradictions in American society were inevitably reflected in the stu-
dent unrest on the California State college campuses.
THE UNEASY AUTUMN OF 1967
San Jose State College is some 50 miles south of San Francisco. During
the week of September 18, 1967, the United Black Students for Action issued
charges of racial discrimination in housing for students in the area around the
college; they also charged discriminatory practices in the conduct of the
school's athletic program, fraternities, and enrollment policies. The college's
president, Robert D. Clark, immediately began discussions with students and
community leaders on the conglomeration of issues involved. As the week
progressed, the discussions grew angrier and the situation more explosive.
There were numerous threats that fraternity and sorority houses would be
burned, and that there would be serious violence at the upcoming weekend
football game.
Clark dealt with the situation "first . . . [by acknowledging] that discrimi-
nation exists. . . . The simple bald fact . . . that as a civilized, democratic, in-
tellectual community we have tolerated discriminatory behavior against
blacks. . . ." To avoid violence, he canceled the football game. State and
local agencies were alerted, and local police and sheriffs forces had been
mobilized. By Thursday, September 21, Clark had arrived at a plan of action
that was endorsed almost unanimously by a vote of the black students. In
late October of that year, Clark reported to the Board of Trustees on his re-
sponse to the threats of violence. The board commended him for his handling
of the situation. Clark's words are well worth noting:
Finally, I should like to comment on the threats of violence. No one
who believes in law and order, as I do, wishes to yield to threats of vio-
lence. But when a society is deeply disturbed, as ours is, and when it is
guilty of grave injustices, as ours is, threats will occur. What, then, does
22 Shut It Down!
one do? The first thing, and the most important, is to move vigorously
to ameliorate the injustice. We made that attempt. The second is to
protect innocent people by excluding them if possible from areas where
violence is likely to occur. That is why we ground an aeroplane or evac-
uate a building when a bomb threat is reported. That is why we can-
celed the football game. The third is to take all possible measures to
maintain law and order. And that we did. From the first moment of
threats we were in communication with the law enforcement agencies.
The San Jose Police Department and the Santa Clara Sheriffs office
were fully mobilized, with all vacations cancelled. The Governor's of-
fice was notified and appropriate state agencies placed on the alert.
That these precautions, necessary as they are, have limits to their effec-
tiveness, one devastated city after another in this country can attest.
The Vietnam war was the major cause of student discontent in the fall of
1967. Autumn was the season for business and military on-campus recruiting.
A series of demonstrations ensued, as students, and sometimes faculty mem-
bers, protested the Vietnam war at five of the campuses. Some of the demon-
strations were peaceful, but in others there was violence. Antiwar protest was
occurring many places across the country. On the California State college
campuses, protest took the form of attempts to inhibit recruitment by Dow
Chemical Co., the principal manufacturer of napalm, and by the CIA and the
Armed Forces. The chancellor's acting dean for student affairs still ranks the
war as the No. 1 cause of student unrest.
While antiwar protest dominated the scene, racial issues were beginning to
surface. The first signal was the San Jose State College incident in September.
The next serious incident occurred at San Francisco State.
On the morning of November 6, 1967, a group of black students entered
the office of the Gater, a student daily newspaper, and beat and kicked the
editor. A Gater photographer took spectacular photos of the ensuing melee
between blacks and newspaper staffers. The Black Students Union denied
having any part in the beating, but the photos in the Gater the next morning
showed that BSU members comprised the attacking force.
The black students felt the paper had racist overtones. Allegedly, it had
printed some "humor" containing racial slurs; the paper's continued reference
to Muhammad Ali as "Cassius Clay" was seen as yet another evidence of rac-
ism. There was also some question about alleged "rigging" of an election for
homecoming queen.
A fire occurred in a dormitory the same morning, further unnerving the
campus. No link was established between the fire and the beating of the
Gater editor, but the juxtaposition of the two frightened many. "In all my
years at this school, I've never seen anything like that day," one veteran ad-
ministrator said.
A few days later, the black students turned themselves in in response to
warrants for their arrest. One of them was George Mason Murray, coordinator
of the student-run ghetto tutorial program, and a graduate student who held a
part-time teaching post in the English department. President Summerskill an-
nounced the suspensions of Murray and three others, pending disciplinary
action.
By November 30, 1967, as a result of the continuing series of largely anti-
war protest incidents, the chancellor felt it necessary to reassure the Board of
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 23
Trustees with a "special report" on campus disturbances. Noting that student
unrest was a worldwide phenomenon, he said that
The basis of much of the current unrest is legitimate student and fac-
ulty concern with the problems of this nation and the world. To that
extent it is defensible, for such concern is appropriate to the academic
community. More and more, however, there is a tendency for this con-
cern to move in dangerous directions to the extent that free discussions
and dissent become confused with personal license, violent advocacy,
and lawlessness. One dangerous development is that special interest
groups consider the campus a pawn in their struggle to capture and con-
trol the educational matrix. Another is the growth of the idea that the
campus is properly a staging area for revolution and violent social and
political change. A third and still more common danger area is for pro-
tagonists of an idea to consider it quite proper to prevent opponents
from expressing their views.
Academic freedom works both ways. If it means anything at all, it
means that the guarantee of free expression for one point of view must
be accompanied by a similar guarantee of free expression for opposing
views. . . .
The academic community always has been one of the consciences of
society. This is one of its most venerable functions. It is a questioner,
a worrier, a critic, an idealist. . . . But a thorn is not a lance. A critic is
not a thug. . . .
Students and indeed faculty members who countenance physical vio-
lence and massive disruption of collegiate functions are seeking to exer-
cise what they refer to as "power." In fact this turns out to be force-
not power.
The Board of Trustees responded by passing a moderate resolution on stu-
dent governance. In the words of the resolution, the board "expected that
the leadership of the president, the judgment of the faculty, and the good
sense of the students will maintain the college campus as a place of order in
balance with freedom."
The board's calm and even mood did not persist for very long. Apparently
unrelated, separate incidents of disorder and violence on Wednesday, Decem-
ber 6, 1967, at the Los Angeles and San Francisco campuses brought the
trustees into special session on the morning of Saturday, December 9, 1967.
President Greenlee of the Los Angeles campus and President John Summer-
skill of San Francisco State were asked to report to the board on the events of
the previous Wednesday.
The December 6 disturbance at San Francisco State revolved around the
issue of student discipline. The banned newspaper, Open Process, had re-
sumed printing, and it printed another issue that proved offensive to State
legislators and many California residents. It featured a poem on masturbation
dedicated to the director of the physical education department, and a picture
of a male student clad only in a cluster of grapes. President Summerskill said
the poem was "offensive" and "insulting," and suspended the newspaper, its
editor, and the poet, Jefferson Poland, founder of the Sexual Freedom
League. The American Civil Liberties Union threatened to ask for a Federal
court injunction to readmit the Open Process students, on the ground that
24 Shut It Down!
the offending publication did not constitute sufficient cause for summary sus-
pension. Summerskill consulted with the chancellor's office and was advised
by the general counsel that the ACLU would prevail on the question of sum-
mary suspension. He therefore announced the withdrawal of the suspension
of the Open Process students to 500 demonstrators picketing outside his of-
fice. "I acted precipitously," he told the crowd.
The paper remained suspended. This angered the white student supporters
of the publication, as did Summerskiirs declaration that disciplinary proce-
dures would continue against the students involved, although not on a sum-
mary basis. He said the college's board of appeals and review would hear the
case and make a disciplinary decision.
Black students in the crowd demanded to know why the president had not
also withdrawn the suspensions of the four black students then charged with
the Gater beatings. Jimmy Garrett then took over the microphone to an-
nounce a rally of area black students to be held at San Francisco State Decem-
ber 6, "to express their opinion."
The black students accused President Summerskill of "racism" for with-
drawing the suspension of whites, but not blacks. However, by that time, the
board of appeals and review had already acted in the Gater incident to sus-
pend four black students, put two on probation, and warn three. The cases
were different.
(As a result of criminal proceedings, Murray and seven other attackers in
the Gater incident received 6-month suspended sentences. All were soon re-
admitted to the college.)
Summerskill later regretted his decision to lift the Open Process suspen-
sions. "It turned out," he said "that politically, it probably would have been
better to go to court and take a licking from the Civil Liberties Union, but I
thought this was a fair thing to do."
The December 6, 1967, demonstration united students with a wide range
of grievances. There were the BSU blacks, ghetto high school students, anti-
war whites, and people who were angry over the firing of a controversial pro-
fessor.
According to Summerskill, the protest-
brought together for the first time various radical elements on the cam-
pus with their supporters from a number of Bay Area communities. ...
We have never been confronted by this group of people. . . . Black Stu-
dent Union people by and large simply do not talk to SDS antiwar peo-
ple but this time, because suspensions were involved, they were talking
and acting in unison. . . .
"School is closed!" chanted the crowd. Several hundred of them surged
up the steps to the administration building. The locked glass door (with TV
men and photographers on the other side) broke and the crowd poured
through. A roving crowd of Negro high school students broke into two other
buildings and did minor damage. Summerskill was in his office with two rep-
resentatives of the San Francisco Police Department. There were 200 police
waiting a call in an apartment complex near the campus. President Summer-
skill and his police advisers decided to close the campus and not risk bringing
police on campus to battle the mob. Fist fights broke out between students
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 25
and nonstudents, and the crowds dispersed after about 3 hours without
rioting.
The scene of the mob breaking through the glass of the administration
building incensed television viewers throughout California. The trustees called
an emergency meeting 3 days later to chastise President Summerskill for his
failure to call police. Several politicians called for his firing.
What viewers saw on their TV screens was apparent chaos, followed by
Summerskill's statement that he had decided not to bring the police on cam-
pus. The original version of Summerskill's statement had included a reference
to his liaison with the police department. The reference was removed at the
request of a police department representative. In retrospect, everyone recog-
nized the deletion was a mistake. It was not until the morning of the trust-
ees' meeting in Los Angeles that the whole story was ultimately told, and the
hue and cry was ended by a report from San Francisco Police Chief Thomas
J. Cahill, concluding that: "Proper procedure was followed taking all circum-
stances into consideration. The police advised President Summerskill and his
decisions have my full approval."
The legislature had begun to investigate Summerskill's handling of the inci-
dent, but backed off when the police chief said he agreed with Summerskill.
THE TRUSTEES' INCREASING CONCERN
It was apparent from the chancellor's opening statement on December 9
that rhetoric was escalating, and positions were hardening. The chancellor
was clearly under pressure. Once again he sought to reassure the board, and
the colleges' critics, that the disruptions involved only a fraction of the sys-
tem's 190,000 students. He told the board that the State colleges were not
the first in the country to experience campus violence and that, on the whole,
they remained peaceful and quiet centers of learning. He told the board, "We
HAVE met the problem over the past two years, we ARE meeting it now, we
WILL meet it in the future."
Some of the words were the same, but the mood was clearly different.
The Governor was in attendance. The chancellor assured him that
. . . force will be met by superior force on any of these 1 8 campuses
without hesitation; that the day is past when ANY student, professor or
administrator will be asked to operate in a climate of fear and intimida-
tion; or when any of our overwhelming majority of serious, responsible
students cannot face the school year with an absolute guarantee of un-
interrupted, undisturbed study.
Calling the campus security forces "our first line of defense," the chancellor
requested an immediate additional appropriation of $100,000 to augment the
college system's campus security forces (which then totaled 113, with an ad-
ditional 40 persons enforcing parking regulations). He also asked approval of
the appointment by each campus president of a single responsible individual
who would have the primary duty of establishing and maintaining "constant
and effective liaison with outside police agencies to assure that these forces
are ready to come onto campus at any time with their maximum amount of
available force." The chancellor told the board that it "must face the possi-
bility at some campuses of a riot growing into a general insurrection."
26 Shut It Down!
The trustees appointed a task force of five to "evaluate" President Sum-
merskilTs "stewardship." (Their investigation ultimately resulted in an
endorsement of his handling of the December 6 incident.)
The statewide academic senate was furious at the trustees' action and de-
scribed the December 9 emergency meeting as a "humiliating hearing at which
President John Summerskill . . . and other college presidents were in effect
tried publicly while the leaders of the Democratic and Republican Parties-
attending their first trustee meeting of the year demonstrated by their very
presence how much public higher education has become a political football in
California." 3
The San Francisco State faculty gave President Summerskill a standing ova-
tion at their next meeting, a 245-to-62 vote of confidence, and made an im-
plied threat to strike if he were fired. The faculty also recorded its objection
to an emergency resolution passed by the trustees, providing mandatory sus-
pension for students or faculty members guilty of violence on the campus.
The faculty meeting was filled with discussion of the "erosion of local
control" a major complaint in the AFT strike a year later.
The board's emergency action had such an inflammatory effect upon col-
lege presidents, faculty, and students alike that the board was forced to with-
draw from its position a few weeks later. Faced with the strong opposition of
the presidents and faculties, the trustees modified the regulations in late Janu-
ary 1 968 to return discretion to the college presidents in suspension or dis-
missal of students, faculty, and employees. The trustees also appointed a
subcommittee to study the modified regulations. After consultation with
representatives of the faculty, students, and college presidents, the subcom-
mittee recommended that the modified regulations remain in force, and
that the board promulgate guidelines for maintaining the educational process
on the campuses.
As the December 9 special session moved to a close, the board resolved
that it found it "unthinkable to even contemplate looking forward to a con-
tinuous conducting of the educational processes on campuses which resemble
armed camps."
The spring of 1968 brought little relief. The Vietnam war and the bomb-
ing continued; the antiwar movement was at its peak; there were demonstra-
tions on city streets and college campuses across the country. In California,
the State colleges were no exception.
There were other irritants, too other kinds of campus activity upon which
antagonistic segments of the public could focus, and which were sources of
conflict between the statewide administration and some local faculty and stu-
dents. At Long Beach State College the chancellor intervened to close a con-
troversial art exhibit of life-size nudes in poses which were considered porno-
graphic. Students and faculty at the Long Beach campus regarded this as a
transgression of academic freedom. A similar outcry arose at Fresno State
College when another controversial art exhibit was closed (without the chan-
cellor's intervention).
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 27
PRESIDENT SUMMERSKILL RESIGNS
On February 22, 1968, President Summerskill announced his resignation,
effective in September. In his resignation statement, he charged the Reagan
administration with "political interference and financial starvation" of the
State college system.
"I do not think we will see peace on our campus until we see peace in our
cities, peace in Vietnam," he said.
Asked if he felt a firm disciplinarian might replace his, President Summer-
skill replied, "Discipline has been maintained on our campus. Discipline isn't
going to solve the problem that 80 percent of our students are opposed to the
Vietnam War."
He complained about what he called "interference" by trustees and poli-
ticians with the State college system. "This whole system is going to break
down if the trustees and politicians are going to hire and fire professors," he
told the Los Angeles Times.
He said he was quitting because
I couldn't say what I'm saying now as president, but somebody had bet-
ter start saying something about these problems.
The issue is: are we going to let the educational establishment be
taken over essentially by people who are running for political office?
Somewhat more than a month later, the statewide academic senate issued
"with great regret" its position paper on "Politics in Higher Education." The
academic senate strongly denounced the actions of the trustees, the legisla-
ture, and the general interjection of politics into the affairs of the State col-
leges. The paper, unanimously approved by the academic senate on March
29, 1968, suggested that faculty members might be forced to take "the op-
tion of leaving, even though ... the ultimate victims will be the many Cali-
fornia students." The paper also recommended that in hiring professors it be
made "perfectly clear what the situation is in the California State colleges and
what it may become."
In April 1968, the trustees sought to relieve partially one major source of
discontent inadequate minority enrollment.
The effect of the master plan, with its limitation to the upper one-third of
the high school graduating class, had been to reduce minority enrollment at
the State-college campuses. The effect of the board's action was to increase
from 2 percent to 4 percent the number of students who could be admitted
as exceptions to the normal enrollment standard, under a new program which
became known as the Educational Opportunity Program (EOP). More than
400 students were eligible for admission to San Francisco State pursuant to
the new policy. The Educational Opportunity Programs were developed dur-
ing the spring of 1968, and as of July, when the chancellor's office issued its
first status report on the EOP, it was estimated that for the entire system,
roughly 4,000 students were to be admitted to the program in September
1968. The program was underfunded from the beginning, and attempts to
obtain the necessary support, from within and outside the system, have been
only minimally successful. It does not have the Governor's support. He
struck approximately $250,000 of EOP money from a 1968 appropriation by
28 Shut It Down!
item veto; and his budget for 1969-70 does not include $2,472,000 recom-
mended for EOF by the Board of Trustees.
President Summerskill worked throughout the spring to lay groundwork
for a black studies program. On the advice of Jimmy Garrett (and against the
wishes of his staff, deans, and a prominent black community spokesman) he
brought sociologist Nathan Hare to San Francisco State College from Wash-
ington to launch the department.
Demonstrations against military recruiters and campus discontent contin-
ued even to the final days before Summerskill left the country.
In late May, Summerskill called in San Francisco police to clear demon-
strators who were staging a sit-in and had refused to leave the administration
building. It was an SDS-led sit-in with the goal of forcing Air Force ROTC
off the campus-and the SDS had persuaded Mexican and Latin students to
join them by including demands for admission of Third World students (which
the administration had essentially granted) and the hiring of professors ac-
ceptable to them.
Twenty-six persons were arrested in the building with no resistance. But a
crowd of students had gathered outside and the police felt they were blocking
exit of their vans and moved to clear the students away. Police used clubs,
and students threw rocks. Said one witness:
They tried to move the first van^out and they gave a couple of warn-
ings to the crowd to move so they could move.
Then the cops moved in, and they moved real fast.
You know, batons up and real fast, and people started falling down
and clubs came out and Terry Hallinan [a San Francisco attorney] ran
and got zapped in the head and it was a real sticky scene.
The administration building sit-in resumed for several more days with
amnesty added to the list of demands. Summerskill determined to meet the
sit-in by keeping the campus open 24 hours a day. The chancellor's office
was prepared at one point to intervene and clear the administration building
if Summerskill would not. The chancellor's demand was rejected and after
additional discussion, withdrawn.
Summerskill met with leaders of the Third World Liberation Front
(TWLF), leaders of the sit-in, and several members of the faculty, and agreed
that the college would admit 400 minority students under the Educational
Opportunity Program. He further agreed that 9 of the 1 2 new faculty posi-
tions which the college expected to get in the 1968-69 budget would, pursu-
ant to a recommendation of the academic deans, be assigned for support of
the special admissions program. And, he agreed to give the TWLF a full and
effective voice, according to established college procedures, in recruiting and
employing personnel for the additional staff positions allocated for minority
programs.
On Thursday, May 23, Summerskill agreed, in a reversal of a press state-
ment he had issued earlier the same day, that he would call a college commu-
nity referendum May 27-28 on the question of keeping the ROTC on campus.
President Summerskill and his staff disagreed sharply on some of the con-
cessions he made to the students.
He left the campus Thursday night. By Friday morning, it was learned
that he did not intend to return prior to his departure for Addis Ababa, Ethi-
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 29
opia, for an indefinite stay (where he is now working on a Ford Foundation-
financed project at the university).
Friday afternoon the deans and the executive committee of the academic
senate met and reached a general consensus that the administration building
should be closed. In the course of closing the building and evacuating those
participating in the sit-in, 25 arrests were made.
As the 1967-68 academic year came to a close, the chancellor sent a letter,
a "Review of Recent Events," to all State college faculty. He listed six criti-
cal problems for the State colleges:
1. Making education relevant to issues of the day peace, poverty, dis-
crimination, social progress, etc.
2. Making all of higher education accessible to a larger portion of our
citizens.
3. Making effective the sharing of decisionmaking more broadly through
democratic processes with those affected by the decisions especially
students and faculty.
4. Drawing the large central segment of uncommitted students and fac-
ulty into more active participation in the affairs of the academic
state.
5. Preventing the manipulation of academic institutions by willful mi-
norities for private or nihilistic ends.
6. Streamlining traditional academic governance so that it can more
adequately respond to a dynamic, high pressure, volatile environ-
ment.
The chancellor called for salary parity with the University of California,
changing the name of the State college to California State University, adjust-
ments in teaching load, an independent Ph.D. program, and increased funds
and more budgetary flexibility.
In August 1968, the chancellor's office issued a report summarizing Dis-
sent, Demonstration and Disruption in the California State Colleges, 1967-68.
Viewing the scene detached from the pressure of any single decision, any par-
ticular event or disturbance, the report listed the fundamental causes of cam-
pus problems as seen by "most observers":
(1) War protest, (2) racial discrimination, (3) desire to use the col-
leges and universities as vehicles for social change, (4) curricular
irrelevance, (5) institutional inertia and resistance to change.
If these are indeed the true causes, it is apparent that there is little
that the individual president or dean can do with assurance to guarantee
the peace and tranquility of a particular campus, particularly if it is an
urban one. War protest will continue as long as does the war in Viet-
nam. Racial discrimination can be alleviated but its lessening is depend-
ent more upon desire in the hearts of men, rather than upon legislative
concessions and special programs as compensation for its damage. The
push to utilize the campus as a staging ground for social reform can be
debated but probably cannot be deterred. So closely have large univer-
sities, for example, become interwoven with the Federal government in
military programs and defense research (e.g. IDA) that higher education
in its major centers at least appears to have committed itself so fully to
30
Shut It Down!
the political and financial world outside the cloister that this association
seems unlikely to be reversed.
PRESIDENT ROBERT SMITH
Robert R. Smith, former head of the education department and a long-
time critic of the trustees, was named to succeed John Summerskill as the
president of San Francisco State College. He asked for a 3-year term, "figur-
ing that if I got into it at all and give up what I was doing, I ought to work the
cycle through and see if we could put the college in shape so that maybe it
would be fit for a president to assume."
The shattered administration was delighted by the choice of Smith as the
new president. 'We go into the summer in tatters, and we work and we are
tired as hell trying to prepare ourselves for the fall," recalls a vice president.
GEORGE MURRAY
From the beginning, it was a busy fall for San Francisco State's administra-
tors. Their troubles began long before the November 6 deadline. Black Pan-
ther George Murray had visited Cuba during the summer. While there, he was
critical of the "imperialistic" United States and was quoted as saying that
every American soldier knocked out by the Vietcong in Vietnam meant "one
aggressor less" to deal with here at home.
When he returned in the fall of 1968 to teach as a part-time instructor in
the English department, his reemployment received headlines in San Francisco
newspapers. The stories recalled Murray's participation in the Gater beating.
After a few days of newspaper stories and public comments by San Francisco
area figures, the fuss died down. Then, after a respite of nearly a week, the
Los Angeles newspapers picked up the story.
Murray's renewed employment set the stage for the first of a series of en-
counters between the Board of Trustees and the new president of San Fran-
cisco State College.
While there was general agreement that Murray's classroom performance
was good, the Board of Trustees began to take a different view; and the pres-
sures that were building up did not aid them in maintaining calm detachment.
Murray was a Black Panther; he had traveled to Cuba; his reported statements
were couched in the exaggerated rhetoric of black militancy. Eldridge Cleaver
was speaking throughout the State, and the University of California regents,
the Governor, the Berkeley chancellor, and students were waging open war-
fare over the proposed course, "Social Analysis 139X," in which Cleaver was
to lecture. Election fever was in the air. Of direct importance was a bond
issue: $250 million for construction for higher education, requiring the vot-
ers' approval. (Robert Smith told a September 12 meeting of the college's
local advisory board that the failure to pass the bond issue would be disas-
trous for the State colleges-the whole building program was at stake.) There
was also the bitterest U.S. senatorial campaign in recent years a campaign in
which Cleaver and conduct on the campuses became issues.
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 31
Vice President Garrity discussed this period with the Study Team:
Cleaver has captured the press at this time. All we hear in the local
papers is Cleaver-here and all around the State. The only place Murray
is getting mentioned is in Los Angeles. All of the concern is from
Dumke and his people, and we're saying: "There's no trouble here.
Forget it."
And we continue this kind of effort and they continue to contend
that it is: "terrible, terrible."
According to its chairman, the Board of Trustees did not know of Murray's
status as an instructor until publication of a San Francisco Examiner story.
They were aware that Murray had been disciplined as a student for his partici-
pation in the Gater incident in November 1967. (The suspension was subse-
quently lifted by President John Summerskill, acting on his own.) But they
were shocked to learn that a member of the faculty had been involved in an
assault on a student, and that no disciplinary action had been taken.
Following the Gater incident in 1967, the English department recom-
mended Murray's suspension from the faculty, and this was approved by the
executive committee of the academic senate. But a small group of faculty
members succeeded in getting President Summerskill and the academic senate
to urge the English department's HRT (hiring, retention, and tenure) commit-
tee to reverse its recommendation. The HRT committee did so, but with seri-
ous misgivings, and then only on the understanding that Summerskill and the
academic senate would institute disciplinary proceedings against Murray.
Summerskill, in the words of one administrator, "took full charge of the mat-
ter," but charges were never filed. When Murray's contract for reemployment
came before the HRT committee, the English department took the view that
Summerskill had personally assumed the responsibility for Murray's discipline.
Consequently, the department considered only Murray's performance as a
teacher. There is agreement among those interviewed by the Study Team that
there was no criticism of Murray's teaching; nor was there any indication that
he ever used his classroom for political purposes.
On September 19, 1968, the chancellor and Robert Smith met to discuss
the reassignment or firing of George Murray. Smith declined to take any
action.
On September 26, the trustees voted 8 to 5 to ask President Smith to reas-
sign Murray to a nonteaching position.
The meeting of the board had covered 2 days, September 25 and 26. As
the probable nature of the board's action became apparent, faculty and stu-
dent spokesmen expressed their concern. Leo McClatchy, chairman of the
campus' academic senate, said that any hasty action or failure of due process
in the Murray case would result in "a drastic faculty reaction, not only on our
campus, but all over the State." The announcement of the board's action
brought immediate, negative reaction from a variety of faculty spokesmen at
the meeting:
Leo McClatchy, academic senate chairman at San Francisco State,
protested that Murray had not been charged with being unqualified for
his teaching duties, and had been afforded no opportunity to defend
himself.
32 Shut It Down!
John Stafford, chairman of the statewide academic senate, said the
board's action appeared to be an implied attack by the board on the
principle of delegation of authority to the campus. He agreed with
McClatchy that there would be faculty reaction.
Richard Peaks, a western regional official of the American Associa-
tion of University Professors, and that the board's action appeared to be
inconsistent with long-standing AAUP standards on college governance,
and inconsistent also with the board's own actions in the past.
Bud Hutchinson, executive secretary of the College Council of the
American Federation of Teachers, and Ross Koen, of the Association of
California State College Professors, objected to the board's dealing with
this matter in executive session, and called its action illegitimate.
Robert Phelps, of the California College and University Faculty As-
sociation, urged the board to reconsider. He said the board's action
would create far more difficult problems and urged the board to recog-
nize due process.
A week went by. President Smith refused to honor the trustees' request
that he reassign Murray, noting that Murray had a contract with the college,
and that it could not be broken without following established procedures.
Smith said that he interpreted the board's "request" as leaving the responsi-
bility for the assignment of personnel to local campus administrators within
the framework of established policy.
In announcing on October 1 his refusal to reassign Murray to nonteaching
duties, President Smith said his decision was made after consultation with the
academic senate, the English department, the college's advisory board, and
"other interested persons." President Smith told a press conference that any
reassignment of Murray to a nonteaching position "would require charges and
an open hearing at which the individual has opportunity to defend himself.
"The public statements and political philosophies of faculty members are
not grounds for punitive action."
"This brings us to the real question of public and official attitudes," said
Smith. "The Trustees' concern apparently stems from Mr. Murray's actions
and statements outside the classroom. The exact basis for their request that I
reassign him has not been communicated to me in any written charges and his
record at this college does not warrant action at the present time under our
rules and procedures."
Smith was playing for time, and a way to deal with Murray within the pro-
cedures of the college. His task was made virtually impossible by the lack of
an established, operational mechanism for faculty discipline. The machinery
was there-but only on paper. There had been some movement toward the
creation of appropriate machinery in the spring of 1968, but as the semester
ended, so had the effort; over the intervening summer months, nothing was
done. When the fall semester began, the machinery for due process was not
yet able to function. Thus, Smith sought a way, amidst faculty and student
pressure, to deal with the Murray matter.
For the moment, the trustees did not seek to force Smith's hand, although
they were growing restive. At least until October 24, the issue was avoided.
At the trustees' regular monthly meeting on that day, Chairman Theodore
Meriam told the board:
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 33
We have received numerous questions concerning Mr. George Murray,
instructor at San Francisco State College. President Smith of San Fran-
cisco State has advised us that the College is currently investigating cer-
tain conduct of Mr. Murray as reported to campus offices. In my judg-
ment it is inappropriate for this Board to take any action today which,
while an investigation is being conducted by proper campus authorities,
might interfere with the process of that investigation. We shall antici-
pate receiving the outcome of this investigation in a report from Presi-
dent Smith at our next Board meeting.
The board believed Smith had made a firm commitment to take action
with respect to Murray.
Murray added to the furor by continuing to make inflammatory speeches.
On October 24, Murray made a speech at Fresno State College while the
trustees were meeting on campus which destroyed any hope of further re-
straint on the part of the statewide administration. He reportedly told 2,000
students: "We are slaves and the only way to become free is to kill all the
slavemasters." During the speech, he referred to President Lyndon B. John-
son, Chief Justice Earl Warren, and Governor Ronald Reagan as "slavemas-
ters." Murray said that the country needs "an old-fashioned black-brown-red-
yellow-poor white revolution. That's the only way we're going to change
things in the U.S.," he said.
"Political power comes from the barrel of a gun," Murray told his audi-
ence. "If you want campus autonomy, if the students want to run the college,
and the cracker administrators don't go for it, then you control it with the
gun."
THE STUDENT UNION
The October 24 meeting of the Board of Trustees produced an action
which added further to student discontent. The trustees again rejected-by an
8-8 vote the design of architect Moshe Safdie for a new $5.8 million student
union building. The building would have been built with student funds.
Safdie expressed amazement a few weeks earlier when a committee of the
trustees had rejected his work as "ugly, impractical and incompatible with the
campus architecture." Russell Bass, president of the Associated Students of
San Francisco State, presented the trustees with a petition with 6,000 student
signatures endorsing the union.
"I live closer to the lives of students than you do and I am not threatening,
but I do want to give you a report," said Bass. "The kind of disruptive activ-
ity that you are so vehemently opposed to is simply the discontent which has
surfaced. The volume of student discontent is far greater than that."
The trustees' rejection of the design exemplified for many of the students
all they found objectionable in the rule of the "absentee trustees."
Those who worked on the project feel that the campus badly needs a new
student union; there are few places on the crowded campus to gather, talk, or
study in anything like an accommodating atmosphere. A great deal of time
and effort, and a substantial amount of students' funds, went into a design
study for the new union. Safdie's design, based on a combination of modules
with sharply angled windows, was unique and controversial. It won an archi-
tectural award, but ran into immediate difficulties with the Board of Trustees.
34 Shut It Down!
There were questions about the cost estimates and objections to the physical
design. The trustees' budget committee gave the project reluctant approval,
but the building and grounds committee wanted the design modified for a
number of reasons, including safety factors related to the windows. The
board had requested the students to bring back a modification of the design.
The design was not modified, in part because Safdie objected. The matter
was then brought before the full board on October 24, 1968, when, after
much debate, the design was rejected. Robert Smith has cited the rejection of
the design as one of the main issues on the campus in the fall of 1968.
MURRAY'S SPEECH
On Monday, October 28, Murray, speaking from a cafeteria table at San
Francisco State, is reported to have said that black and brown students should
carry guns to protect themselves from "racist administrators."
Some newspaper accounts tied Murray's speech to the black students' call
for a November 6 strike. And the impression was given that Murray was call-
ing for them to bring guns particularly on that day. Murray disagreed with
this version, pointing out that he meant they should carry guns at all times to
protect themselves.
In the days immediately following the speech, there was confusion as to
what Murray actually said. When Robert Smith and Mayor Alioto sought suf-
ficient grounds to justify a criminal complaint, there was no hard evidence-
no recorded version of Murray's statements could be found. The San Fran-
cisco Chronicle reporter who first broke the story had not been present he
had reported a hearsay account. But the press reports, coming as they did on
the heels of Murray's Fresno speech, were enough to force the issue with the
statewide administration.
In his talk, Murray had touched on what was to be a central theme of the
black philosophy in the turmoil here. He accused the administration of delay-
ing the implementation of a black curriculum:
The black studies department is no department at all. There are four
and one-half million black and brown people in California, and they all
pay taxes to pay for the racist departments here, but none of their taxes
go to black and brown people.
The reaction to Murray's call for guns on campus was explosive. San Fran-
cisco Mayor Alioto asked the district attorney to see if Murray's statement
violated any laws. "This is a wild and extremist statement," the mayor told a
press conference. 'Such exhortations to violence are part of the reasons for
tensions in the city."
The mayor might well have been concerned; it had been a tense week in
San Francisco: The Richmond district police station had been bombed; there
had been a major fire in a housing project; it was approaching Halloween, tra-
ditionally a difficult time for the police force.
On October 31, State College Chancellor Dumke, after consultation "with
a number of trustees," ordered President Smith to suspend Murray both as an
instructor and as a graduate student for 30 days, pending completion of the
investigation of his conduct.
Conditions at San Francisco State before the Strike 35
For several days, the college administrators had been pleading with the
chancellor's office to let them handle Murray through normal disciplinary
procedures.
Smith refused on October 3 1 to comply with what he called the "unprece-
dented" order and requested a November 1 meeting with Dumke to discuss
the suspension "in the context of the local situation." Such a meeting, said
Smith, "would allow the participation of both campus and community offi-
cials who will bear the impact of this action."
Smith had sought out Mayor Alioto. After conferring, the two were agreed
the city was filled with tension, and any incident which might trigger violence
should be avoided.
Both Smith and Alioto knew the tremendous pressure the trustees were
under, and realized that some action by the trustees was a certainty. Both
hoped that any action would be deferred for a few days. Thus, the mayor
and the college president telephoned the trustees, meeting in Los Angeles, to
request a delay until Monday, November 4. At the least, they wanted time to
build up evidence for a solid case against Murray in any campus disciplinary
proceedings, and Alioto wanted time to better prepare local officials and po-
lice if trouble did occur. Their request was refused.
The mayor also sought opinions from the district attorney^tljfe U.S. attor-
ney, and the State's attorney general as to whether the facts would support
criminal action against Murray. It was the mayor's belief that a criminal
charge would be better accepted on the campus and in the community than
summary action by the State college system's hierarchy. All three law en-
forcement agencies gave negative opinions.
On Friday, November 1 (after most students had left for the weekend),
Smith carried out the order to suspend Murray. But he issued a statement
saying he did so reluctantly :
"I do not believe that this abrupt manner of handling this situation con-
tributes to the solution of a complex problem."
Smith's statement also said:
My option to resolve the Murray case using college procedures in a
manner designed to benefit the San Francisco community, the college
and Mr. Murray have been removed by an order to suspend Mr. Murray
immediate. . . .
Smith said that the "continuing statewide controversy over the matter has
complicated the disciplinary process already under way," but that this process
would continue and that Murray would have "adequate opportunity to re-
spond to the charges and defend himself."
President Smith described the events of that week in his interviews with
the Study Team:
I thought that the Murray-Cleaver dispute across the state was about
two-thirds tied to the November election. I wasn't about to throw an-
other catalyst into the city when it looked really threatening in the city,
so I went to check with the mayor to see what he thought about main-
taining stability on the campus. At that time we were having all kinds
of turbulence around the high schools in the city, and then Halloween
was coming up, and we had turmoil on the campus. The mayor was
355-234 0-69-4
36 Shut It Down!
convinced that nothing should be done that week regardless of the mer-
its of the case.
And the second thing was that we didn't have the evidence to sus-
pend Murray. What we had were newspaper accounts, and you couldn't
get anybody to testify. We did get a tape later. Dumke felt that I had
committed myself to the trustees the week before to do something
about Murray by the middle of the week, and Wednesday is the middle
of the week. So I started getting calls from the chancellor's office and
Murray made an additional speech that didn't help things. And so I was
trying to deal with that and we couldn't get anybody to make explicit
what they had heard except the report in the Chronicle.
So in the meantime, I decided I wasn't going to act until the follow-
ing week for the good of the college, for the community, and because
of the politically laden operation. That's when I started getting orders
to suspend him.
On October 30, Smith had an appointment with the mayor scheduled for
11 a.m.
Then I got a call [from the chancellor's office] about 9 or 9:30 a.m.
saying: "When are you going to move on Murray?"
And I tried to tell them what I was doing about it. They felt in my
going to Alioto I had the impression that they felt it was an effort to
drag the Democrats into the situation rather than an effort to see
whether we were going to blow up the campus.
So I held out stubbornly until Friday afternoon.
As the Board of Trustees and the chancellor saw it, Smith was being
dilatory he was not honoring his commitments. As Smith's friends among
the faculty and college administration saw it, the trustees were forcing him to
do something he had already determined to do to suspend Murray, but forc-
ing it to be done in a way the academic community would surely find unac-
ceptable. As to timing while Smith and Alioto sensed tension in San Fran-
cisco, the trustees sensed rising public dissatisfaction throughout the State,
perhaps endangering the bond issue, and generally undermining the public's
willingness to finance higher education in California. 4
References
1. Dr. Glenn S. Dumke, 1957-61; Acting President Dr. Frank Fenton, Nov. 1961-Sept.
1962; Dr. Paul Dodd, 1962-65; Acting President Dr. Stanley Paulson, Dec. 1965-July
1966; Dr. John Summerskill, 1966-May 1968; Dr. Robert Smith, May-Nov. 1968;
Dr. S. I. Hayakawa, November 1968-present.
2. In its entire history to the date of the strike, no one has ever been expelled.
3. "Politics in Higher Education," a position paper prepared by the academic senate of
the California State colleges, Mar. 28, 1968, AS-157-68/GR(Rev.).
4. Murray was fired hi late February 1969; his probation arising from the criminal as-
sault charge brought against him following the Gater incident was revoked in mid-
February 1969, after he was apprehended in a neighboring community and charged
with illegal possession of firearms.
Chapter V
THE STRIKE
On October 3 1 , the Black Students Union made their official announce-
ment of the strike to begin November 6 and unveiled their demands (releas-
ing them to the press).
In late summer the college administration had learned that the black stu-
dents had chosen November 6 as the day for some sort of activity to com-
memorate the beating of the Gater editors. The black students explained that
"black people in this nation do not have any meaningful holidays," and they
felt some should be created. The anniversary of the beating of the Gater
editor would be a beginning.
The Study Team discovered there is some confusion about whether the
student strike was to be a 1-day affair or an attempt at a long-range shutdown
of the university. President Smith said that when the 10 demands were pre-
sented to him in his office on November 5, the black students announced they
intended to strike whether or not he granted their demands. He was unclear
whether they meant for a single day or longer.
President Smith issued a tough memorandum to faculty and students
warning all that: "We will not condone violence and will take whatever steps
are required to meet disruptive or violent action, with responses calculated to
insure safety of individuals and property."
On November 5, a black delegation visited President Smith in his office
and formally presented 10 demands to him.
On November 6, the strike began. Roving bands of black students in
teams of 5 and 10 entered classrooms to ask teachers and students why they
were not supporting the strike. Some professors and newsmen reported that
these teams threatened that tougher groups would be along to enforce the
strike. President Smith closed the campus that afternoon for the day after
announcing that he had reports of several small fires and other destruction,
including a typewriter thrown through a window in the Business and Social
Sciences Building. President Smith said he was closing the campus to protect
"the majority of students and faculty members who are concerned with
education." At the steps of the Administration Building, he told 300 white
radicals that "this is not the time or place" to discuss strike grievances.
Two days after presentation of the BSU's 10 demands, the Third World
Liberation Front added five similar ones. (The five demands are listed in
app. I.) The original plan had been to have each of the five member groups
37
38 Shut It Down!
of the Third World present its own list, but it was felt this would be confus-
ing, Roger Alvarado, a TWLF leader, explained to the Study Team, so they
issued only an additional five. Like the original 10 demands, the additional
5 were also labeled "nonnegotiable."
The demands were chiefly concerned with establishment and control of a
black studies department in a School of Ethnic Studies. Many of them were
on their way to being granted at the beginning of the strike, or had been
granted, in effect. And several were granted during the strike, but the stu-
dents insisted all 15 were nonnegotiable and had to be fulfilled, including
the retention of Murray.
The BSU reasoning is sharply illustrated in their explanation of demand
1 that all black studies courses being taught through various other depart-
ments be immediately part of the black studies department and that all the
instructors in this department receive full-time pay.
The BSU explanation of this demand:
The black studies courses are being taught by established depart-
ments which also control the function of courses. In order for a
brother or sister to teach a course he must go before the assigned
department head to receive permission to teach, which clearly shows
that the power lies with the departments and the racist administrators,
not with the black studies department, chairman, faculty, and staff.
LIFE ON STRIKE
The campus reopened November 7. There was some violence but not as
much as the day before. A group of about 500 white and Third World stu-
dents held a campus rally, then marched on the Administration Building.
When the students reached the steps of the Administration Building, they
were met by Robert Beery, head of the campus police, who read a statement
from President Smith:
We must warn you that attempts to enter this Administration
Building or harm the occupants will result in disciplinary action or
arrest.
The students shouted some obscenities, then withdrew. Part of the group
marched through the Business and Social Sciences Building and the Humanities
Building, banging on doors and yelling, "Rehire Murray," before they
dispersed.
There was one arrest. A 28-year-old Nigerian student, enrolled in two
drama courses, was arrested for carrying a small bomb. Police said the bomb
was about the size and shape of a transistor radio, and was filled with black
powder.
Another bomb made of .22-caliber shells wired together in a can exploded
in the Education Building. There were no injuries and no arrest in connection
with this bomb. There were several fires in wastebaskets, a telephone booth,
and in a coach's desk, but all were quickly extinguished.
In the early days of the strike, the striking students assembled picket lines
in front of classroom buildings. Later these were moved and consolidated
into one large circular picket line at the campus entrance.
The Strike 39
A verbal exchange and brief scuffle between two students in front of the
Business and Social Sciences Building illustrated the tensions at the troubled
campus.
About 9 a.m. on November 7, a glass door of the building was shattered
when an unidentified professor opened it hard against a student picket who
refused to move.
Half an hour later a student named Leonard Sellers found his way blocked
by a picketer as he approached the doors. "Are you telling me I can't go to
class?" asked Sellers, a 24-year-old senior in journalism. "I have enough
trouble just going to school."
"If you go in, you're a scab," replied the picketer, Kenneth Milz, a 24-
year-old graduate student.
"Don't call me a scab," Sellers said, and the two students scuffled briefly.
The resulting newspaper photo was published across the Nation. Another
student separated the two.
"Go on in, you scab," Milz said.
That infuriated Sellers enough to want to resume the fight, but they were
again separated.
"Don't you want to support our demands?" asked Milz.
"No," replied Sellers. "Not all of them. Some of them aren't logical like
the demand that all black students be let in here whether they're qualified
or not.
"If they meet the requirements, fine, let them in. But I can't be in favor
of letting all black students who want to come onto the campus. It's
illogical."
Milz asked Sellers' opinion on the demand that Black Panther George
Murray be reinstated as a teacher and graduate student.
"I don't believe that Murray should be allowed to teach here,"
Sellers replied.
"I was in the journalism department last year when Murray and the
others came in and beat up the staff members of the Gater.
"I was one of the guys who got clobbered."
Milz, apparently giving up, replied, "Well go on in to class, you scab."
"Why don't I call you a fascist pig honkie?" Sellers said. "Is that an
answer to any problems?" And he walked into class.
Friday, November 8, the student militants accelerated their guerrilla
tactics. The administration reported that approximately 50 fires were
discovered and extinguished on this day. Black raiding parties some
wearing stocking masks invaded campus offices, overturning desks and
smashing equipment. Most of the vandalism was done at noon while a
strikers' rally was going on at the center of the campus. Offices were
raided in the chemistry, anthropology, and psychology departments. The
raid on the office of the chemistry department occurred with a plain-
clothes policeman in an adjoining office a few feet away. Five men and
two women, all wearing masks, burst into the office and turned over a
desk, wrecked a duplicating machine, overturned wastebaskets, scattered
files, and broke the glass in the door.
Four Negroes entered the anthropology office and ordered a secretary
and two men to leave. One of them cut the wires to the telephone and
the electric typewriter, reported the secretary. She said the young girl
40 Shut It Down!
threw the Ditto machine on the floor and pushed over the coffeemaker.
And a radio was thrown out a window.
Asked if she had screamed or protested, the secretary said:
No, what can you say at a time like that but to say, "please stop."
It all happened in seconds. And one of the men had wire clippers
in his hand. I was worried there might be physical violence.
After all, it's one thing about machines and another when it's
people. But I don't think they meant to hurt anyone.
Commenting on the violence, she said:
I can't help but feel that in a sense the white man is asking for it.
Four hundred years of subtle slavery does weird things to people.
I don't like violence and I don't like damage, but the blacks are
reacting. Most of their demands are right. . . .
Maybe the violence will accomplish something. It took a great
deal of violence in the South and Watts before anybody recognized
there were problems there and did anything about them.
Maybe that's the only way to get people to see.
This sort of hit-and-run action made people uneasy. The administration
reported that some secretaries asked to go home early, and many of the
students were nervous.
One 22-year-old biochemistry major (male) told a reporter:
There are a lot of people in my 12:30 class, and every time we
heard a noise even the wind we looked around expecting a mass
of them to come wheeling through the door.
How can you concentrate on studying?
President Smith announced he was suspending regular student disciplinary
procedures. He removed power from the student judicial court and placed it
in a special five-member faculty-student committee appointed by himself.
President Smith said he was taking the action "because of the series of
emergencies on campus, provoking continued disruption of classes and the
necessary work of the institution."
After a 3-day Veterans Day weekend, classes resumed on Tuesday,
November 12. It was a quiet day. Students held a noon rally on campus.
"Classroom education" teams of black students were visiting classrooms,
requesting (and getting) 10 to 15 minutes to explain the strike to students.
Some of the teams simply described the goals and philosophy of the strike.
At the Psychology Building, police detained and photographed six black
students, who they said were disrupting classes.
The student newspaper, the Daily Gater, a strong supporter of the strike,
said that class attendance was substantially reduced in the departments of
economics, English, art, philosophy, and psychology, and down slightly in
humanities, chemistry, music, and the school of education. The Gater said
the strike was 40 to 50 percent successful. The administration has insisted
that the Gater coverage of the strike has often been unreliable.
Newsmen regularly assigned to the strike estimated that it was 20 to
50 percent successful at times late in the fall semester. However, this did
not mean that half the students at the campus supported the strike goals
The Strike 41
and agreed with the tactics. Many were frightened, or they had no class to
attend because their teachers were on strike or afraid to teach. The most
successful rallies of the students drew more than 5,000 persons, but it was
difficult to separate the curious from the committed. San Francisco State
College had an enrollment of about 900 Negroes in the fall semester. The
administration claimed that only 100 to 200 of them supported the BSU
and its demands. To many observers it appeared that the percentage of
support was much higher. However, there were some Negro students who
continued to attend classes through the strike despite what must have been
incredible pressure. Other Third World groups were not nearly so successful
in securing adherence to the strike among their peers. Large numbers of
Oriental-Americans attended classes regularly. Many students ignored the
disruption completely and walked each day through and between
picketers and police at the college entrance at 19th Street and Holloway
Avenue, completely oblivious to the substance or nature of the dispute.
Students who did attend classes were often subjected to strong verbal
abuse as they descended from trolley cars and walked between police and
the picket line. Shouts of "Scab, scab" were common.
One result of the disruption was a drop in enrollment for the spring
semester which began in February 1969. Enrollment for the fall semester
had been approximately 18,000 students. In the spring semester, it was
about 16,000.
Strike leaders were claiming in mid-November that their effort was 40 to
50 percent successful. President Smith said a majority of the classes were
meeting.
A proposal for arbitration of the strike was made at a noon rally on
November 1 1 by Cyril Roseman, head of the campus urban studies program.
He suggested the creation of an arbitration panel with two men appointed
by President Smith, two by the BSU, and a fifth to be named by the
Community Relations Service of the U.S. Department of Justice. President
Smith agreed to the proposal, but the BSU's Ben Stewart rejected this idea.
"Our demands are simple," he said. "We don't need any more proposals. . . .
It would just be administrators talking to other administrators."
A faculty meeting the next day, attended by approximately half of San
Francisco State's 1,300 teachers, voted overwhelmingly by voice vote in
favor of a motion censuring Dumke for his action in the Murray case, and
calling for his resignation. The faculty postponed consideration of resolu-
tions in support of the strike and in support of President Smith.
STRIKE TURNING POINT
November 1 3 is considered by most observers and participants (news-
men, college administrators and students) as the turning point of the
strike. A major confrontation (incredibly ill timed for all) occurred between
the San Francisco Police Department's tactical squad and students resulting
in an almost classic pattern of escalation and the polarization of many
previously uncommitted students.
As a result of the violence, the campus was closed. And President Smith's
decision to close the campus was criticized, second guessed, and hotly
42 Shut It Down!
debated by politicians, trustees, and the faculty for the remainder of the
fall semester. Ultimately, it was the cause of his resignation.
The day began quietly. Sixty -five members of the American Federation
of Teachers had decided to join the student strike-though they had been
unable at this time to convince the union local to go out. They had set up a
picket line at the campus entrance, 19th Street and Holloway Avenue, and
were yelling at passing students, "Don't go to scab classes."
President Robert Smith thought the faculty action was harmful. "I
thought the ad hoc operation in November was the first thing on the campus
that lengthened the odds of our trying to get a solution at that stage. ... We
had some indications that the black students might have been willing to call
the strike off at about that time."
At noon the Black Students Union held a press conference beside the
BSU headquarters, a cramped area of the campus dotted with one-story huts
used by the student government and student groups such as the BSU and the
experimental college.
At the press conference, George Murray told his audience that the strike
and its accompanying disruption marked a "very historic" moment. "It's
the first time that barriers have been dissolved between classes between
black, brown, yellow and red people," Murray said.
"You can tell every racist pig in the world, including Richard Milhous
Nixon, that we're not going to negotiate until the demands are met."
As the press conference was breaking up, a nine-man unit of the San
Francisco Police Department tactical squad appeared at the other side of
the BSU hut. To students, it appeared that the police were there to intimidate
and harass strikers.
The police had come to the area because of a report of a beating of a
television cameraman. The cameraman told police that he was photographing
two Negroes, "one of them with a suspicious-looking lump in his pocket,"
when he was jumped from behind by "a big black." The cameraman said he
was knocked down and kicked in the back, then he rolled over and filmed
the black man running away.
He mentioned the incident to a campus policeman who suggested that he
make a report to one of the tactical-squad officers in a nearby building. The
cameraman did so and said he thought he could identify his assailant. The
police sent two plainclothesmen to accompany the cameraman to the
student hut area. As they neared the area, the cameraman decided that he
was unable to pick out the black who had attacked him.
At this point, explained tactical squad commander Lt. James Curran, his
men lost radio contact with the plainclothesmen. Fearing the plainclothes-
men were endangered, the uniformed squad marched to the area. The
students knew nothing of this, and felt they were being attacked or at least
harassed by police. And the melee was on.
The tactical squad and its reinforcements felt they were surrounded and
under attack, and they fought back. It is impossible to re-create precisely
how the battle began. To the students it seemed that the tactical squad
suddenly appeared and seized and clubbed Nesbitt Crutchfield, a BSU
member.
The Strike 43
President Smith was eating lunch off campus when the trouble began
and was unaware that uniformed police had marched on the students. The
police central-command post in Smith's office was equally unaware.
Vice President for Academic Affairs Donald L. Garrity, who was having
a sandwich in the president's office at the time, describes the November 13
turmoil as he knows it:
I've never gone to investigate how the message got from the
plainclothesmen to the Tac Squad. . . . The first thing we knew about
it was when the officer we worked with Inspector Ralph Brown,
really a first rate guy-said, "Gosh, the Tac Squad is going into the
BSU."
And we said, "What?"
And he said, "It's going into the BSU."
At that point, we don't say: "Withdraw the troops." They are
there.
We sat and kind of got reports. To this day, I don't think DeVere
[Pentony] or Glenn [Smith] or I know exactly what transpired with
those two plainclothesmen and that cameraman and how the word
got back to move the Tac Squad in. They were in communication
with one another. We weren't monitoring it. Brown was as surprised
as we were. . . .
You know what that hut situation is like. It is not a very big
space, and 50 people is a crowd down there. You come walking a
Tac Unit down there and you are all in a nice, cozy little area.
There is the Tac Unit, and black students with all of their feelings
about not only the police but the Tac Unit. We have a frightened
kind of situation
They blew it, blew it right then and there. Flat out mistake on the
part of the police. With all of the symbolism that's involved for
black people and the like, in this movement.
There is a rally going on out in the middle of the campus which is
an SDS sort of thing, excoriating everyone, you know.
The Tac Squad comes in and somebody yells, "There's the Tac
Squad!"
Hundreds and hundreds of kids run there and they get down there
and the Tac Squad sees hundreds of people running in towards them.
They move out toward them. And we have got the wild scene of people
yelling and screaming, running this way and then that way. Everybody
agitating everybody, and the Tac Squad that is in there being frightened
to death, and they lose their cool, and they zap some black guys. Other
black guys get mad. And the kids get mad out there. Another unit of the
Tac Squad comes in to rescue the Tac Squad unit that is in there.
They get surrounded, and they get panicky and they lose their cool, and
by they, I don't mean all of them. Individual officers break by; suddenly
being surrounded with students who have broken from around the speakers
platform. And I don't mean five or ten, but hundreds. And I don't blame
the cops in a sense for being frightened by it, and they lash out and we
have a mad swirling scene in which each feeds the other.
44 Shut It Down!
It ends up in both units of the Tac Squad trying to make their way
off the campus, but each way they move they run into a group of stu-
dents who surge upon them, then the students retreat and throw things
at them. Maybe one or two guys run out to get the guy who's just hit
him on the side of the head with a can or something, and whaps him
with a club.
The students see that. They come swinging back with a howl and a
roar. We go through that scene. It's bad.
The turmoil was brought to a halt by the intervention of the ad hoc AFT
committee which was striking then in support of the students. The faculty
members, led by Prof. William Staunton, placed themselves between the stu-
dents and the police, and the police marched off campus.
President Smith did not think the faculty members were necessarily to be
congratulated.
"That afternoon they felt they did a great service by moving in between the
police and the students to cut down the violence which I felt they helped
generate in the beginning."
It seemed to some observers and many students that the policemen had
broken ranks and charged the crowd and were beating people at random. Most
observers agree that the campus was a mad swirling scene of frightened
students and policemen for nearly half an hour that day.
Eight persons were arrested, seven of them charged with assault or assault-
ing an officer.
Describing the event, the San Francisco Chronicle reported, "There was an
almost unbroken chorus of shrieks and screams." And the newspaper reported
that the crowd of students had quickly grown from "around 200 to about
2,000."
The students then held a rally at which economics professor William
Staunton, a controversial figure and long an activist in California's campus
politics, urged that the campus be closed:
"There are no more classes at San Francisco State," he told the crowd
at the rally.
. . . That man [Smith] is a damned fool for trying to work within the
system. The trustees must act to restore Murray, guarantee adequate
funds for black studies and the Third World people, and make a clear
declaration that the faculty will be free to run this college. They must
tell us what they intend to do to restore justice on this campus.
He strongly criticized the decision of Chancellor Dumke to require suspen-
sion of George Murray. "Any fool should recognize the danger to lives
brought on this campus by that action," Staunton said.
John Levin, president of the campus SDS and a member of the Maoist
Progressive Labor Party, shouted:
"George Murray was fired for saying students should bring guns on campus
to defend themselves. After you saw these pigs walking around with their
guns out, can you deny he was right?"
The crowd marched on the administration building and a delegation went
inside demanding that Smith come out. They demanded "to know why he
called the pigs." President Smith was interrupted as he began his explanation
that the police were called to "protect the safety of ... ."
The Strike 45
Shouts of "Whose safety?" drowned him out.
The president began to say, "This is not the way . . .," but again was
drowned out by shouts of: "Will you grant the demands?"
He tried to say, "Until we can sit down and talk . . .," but was drowned
out and went back into the building.
At 5:25 p.m., President Smith held a press conference to announce that
the college would be closed.
"It's clear that as a result of the pattern of confrontation and violence
occurring and the turmoil on campus that we don't believe it's possible to
carry on the basic instructional program. . . .
"We will keep the campus closed until we can run it on a more rational
basis."
He told the reporters that "bringing in police as an effort to keep this
campus open has not worked to my satisfaction."
He advised students to remain home and "maintain as best they can their
studies."
The president said that the faculty and administration would begin a
conference the next day and soon bring students into it in an effort to
resolve problems at the troubled campus.
On the following day, Thursday, November 14, began the pattern of
attempts to resolve the turmoil at San Francisco State College efforts that
were to involve California's leading political figures and which would bring
repeatedly to public view the troubles that had long been festering within
the system of the California State colleges. The few days after November 13
set the tone for the remainder of the fall semester, which ended January 31,
1969.
The remainder of November and early December was marked by continued
clashes between students and police and fierce charges and countercharges
about the question of campus autonomy. The question of how far the
statewide trustees should intervene as President Smith attempted to settle
the campus became a focus of controversy. And the longtime animosity that
many faculty members felt toward the trustees and the statewide master
plan boiled to the surface.
A CAMPUS CANNOT BE CLOSED
Political reaction to Smith's decision to close the campus was immediate.
Both Governor Reagan and then Assembly Speaker Unruh criticized the
decision to close the school. The Governor labeled it "an act of capitulation,"
and commented that "the campus administration itself contributed in no
small measure to the unfortunate events of the past few days." The Governor
said he was referring to the fact that President Smith "publicly opposed an
order by Chancellor Dumke calling for the removal of a self-professed
advocate of violence from the State college faculty."
The Governor said the order to close the college was "an unprecedented
act of irresponsibility" and demanded "the campus be reopened to classes
with dispatch."
"I want to make it perfectly plain," said Governor Reagan, "that as long
as I am Governor, our publicly supported institutions of higher education
are going to stay open to provide educations for our young people. The
46 Shut It Down!
people of this State, the people who pay the bills, want it that way. And
that is the way it will be."
The Governor was critical of what he called
a small, unrepresentative faction of faculty and student militants
determined to substitute violence and coercion for orderly grievance
procedures available to all.
Professors are paid to teach, not to lead or encourage violent
forays which only result in physical harm to persons and property.
If they refuse to honor the trust our citizens have placed in them,
they should look for work elsewhere.
And, as I have said before, if students including members of the
BSU and SDS-are unwilling to abide by the rules of the college,
they will have to get their educations somewhere else. . . .
It is clear that the administration in its obvious quest for what
was considered an easy way out, ignored other options which were
available to assure the orderly continuation of the educational
process.
Assembly Speaker Unruh sent a telegram to the Governor urging that
Reagan get the school reopened:
"You should not sit idly by as Governor and permit San Francisco State
College to close its doors. Such a posture would constitute a triumph for
anarchy," said Unruh.
"It seems hardly necessary to remind you that the taxpayers of the
entire State of California support this institution. They will not tolerate
it if you allow riots and rebellion to dictate education policy."
The State College Board of Trustees scheduled a special meeting for the
following Monday in Los Angeles.
"I'm in no hurry to reopen the campus," President Smith told a meeting
of 800 faculty members.
We'll make an assessment each night and we'll reopen when we
have reasonable stability and we can operate without police forces
having to come on campus to put out fires and to protect people.
We have the problems not only of the demands of the black
students, but we also have the demands made by other minority
students.
The San Francisco State faculty senate voted to ask President Smith to
assign 1 1 .3 faculty positions to black studies and for implementation of
the program by the spring of 1969. They created an 18-member task force
to create an ethnic studies program. They also requested Chancellor Dumke
to rescind his order to suspend George Murray.
When told of the faculty action, Chancellor Dumke said he had no
intention of reconsidering the suspension of Murray.
Mayor Alioto offered the services of a labor mediator to settle the trouble
at San Francisco State. The mayor criticized "Chancellor Dumke and the
absentee trustees" for their refusal to agree to his and President Smith's
earlier request to delay for 3 days the suspension of George Murray. The
mayor disagreed with the decision to close the campus.
The Strike 47
President Smith declared on November 15 that he hoped to reopen the
campus the following Tuesday, November 19. The decision would hinge on
how well issues were resolved in talks between administrators, students, and
faculty. And he probably would not know until Monday afternoon if
classes could be resumed.
A newly formed student Committee for an Academic Environment held
a press conference to demand the recall of the elected officers and legislators
in the student government.
Another development on November 1 5 was the short talk in the faculty
meeting by the internationally known semanticist S. I. Hayakawa. "I wish
to comment," he said, "on the intellectually slovenly habit, now popular
among whites as well as blacks, of denouncing as racist those who oppose or
are critical of any Negro tactic or demand.
If we are to call our college racist, then what term do we have left
for the Government of Rhodesia?
Black students are again disrupting the campus. A significant num-
ber of whites, including faculty members, condone and even defend
this maneuver.
In other words, there are many whites who do not apply to blacks
the same standards of morality and behavior that they apply to whites.
This is an attitude of moral condescension that every self-respecting
Negro has a right to resent and does resent.
He was interrupted several times by applause which seemed to come from
a majority of the faculty members present.
Hayakawa talked of the need to support President Smith and get classes
going again by the following Tuesday.
No one no matter how great his need to establish his black
consciousness has the right to break into my classes and tell my
students that they are dismissed.
When my classes are dismissed, I shall dismiss them. The conduct
of my classes is my responsibility and not anyone else's and I shall
continue to fight for the right to continue to do my duty.
He suggested that a faculty-student committee be formed "to keep the
peace." And he called for a resolution of support from the faculty authoriz-
ing President Smith "to suspend students found creating disorder and to get
court orders when necessary to keep disruptive students and nonstudents
off the campus."
Smith was searching for a way to normalize the campus. He met in a
series of conferences with faculty members and administrators at the
college, attempting to identify the basic issues underlying the disturb-
ances and to develop methods of control. Out of these discussions
developed Smith's plan gradually to reopen the campus.
On Monday, November 18, the trustees ordered President Smith to
reopen the college. He had intended to do this, after a day or two of
conferences. Now, he had to go back and face his troubled campus with a
direct order from the trustees who were disliked in the best of times by
many students and faculty members.
48 Shut It Down!
The trustees' meeting room in Los Angeles was crowded with representa-
tivesstudents, faculty, and administrators from San Francisco State. It
was a tension-filled meeting that would be discussed angrily by the San
Francisco delegation for weeks.
The chancellor urged the immediate reopening of the college and
restoration of the basic instructional program, even if it required "maxi-
mum security against violence and disruption."
Trustee Chairman Meriam spoke about the trustees' "special obligation to
the large majority of students and faculty who want to continue their
education." This was a point the trustees returned to repeatedly throughout
the troubled months of the fall semester.
On November 18, the question was whether and under what conditions
San Francisco State College would be reopened. Seen against the background
of the previous 12 months' disturbances, the outcome was never in doubt.
It will be recalled that John Summerskill had to justify to the trustees his
decision in December 1967 to close the campus for only a few hours. The
board members overwhelmingly express the strong feeling that the closing
of any one of the 18 campuses is a matter of policy which they must decide.
Both the trustees and the chancellor do make a distinction, however, between
brief, tactical closings of a campus (such as those ordered by Summerskill in
December 1967, or by Smith on November 6, 1968) and the "indefinite"
closing announced by Robert Smith on November 13, 1968.
There was a consensus at its November 18 meeting that the board could
not allow any group to force the closing of a college. Fundamentally, the
board rested its position upon the fact that the colleges are tax-supported,
public institutions. In the words of one highly respected trustee: "In the
final analysis, maintaining the State college system, or any one of the colleges-
keeping them open and operational-is a board responsibility. It must be."
Individual trustees told the Study Team they had received stacks of mail
from citizens and students urging that the campus be kept open. Some of
the letters were from students who were scheduled to graduate soon and had
supported themselves while going through college. Such letters unquestionably
reinforced the trustees' sincere belief that the school had to be kept open.
The San Francisco State faculty and administration felt, with equal
sincerity, that decisions on whether or not it is possible to conduct classes
can only be made by people at that campus.
President Smith defended his decision to close the campus, saying "the
confrontation was turning from malicious mischief to violence." His plan
for reopening consisted of students returning to the campus that day for
discussions of the issues, holding a faculty meeting Tuesday morning, and
more discussions with students on Tuesday afternoon, all aimed at getting
the campus open Wednesday morning. He said he was "trying to develop a
wider sense of responsibility among students and faculty so that all the
responsibility won't fall on a group of administrators who are suspect
already." He said he wanted to open the campus without massive numbers
of police.
Chancellor Dumke told the board that he had asked President Smith to
reopen the campus immediately. The chancellor said he had made it clear
to President Smith that "the demands of some groups at San Francisco
State College are far in excess of the resources available to him."
The Strike 49
"It is equally clear," said the chancellor, "that the California State
Colleges do not possess the kind of instant resources sufficient to meet all
demands, however legitimate the underlying aspirations may be. ... We
must all understand that demands alone are not always definable as
legitimate needs, and demands backed by violence and threats of violence
taint any need or aspiration."
Leo McClatchy, chairman of the San Francisco State academic senate,
read a statement:
We have been thrust into a feeling of reality that we have never
experienced before: we have witnessed threats and counter-threats,
rocks thrown, heads clubbed an atmosphere of fear. We cannot
operate an institution of higher learning unless we come to terms
with the deep causes underlying the dangerous unrest that has come
to our campus The trustees and the public must be assured that
the suspension of formal classes was not an act of irresponsibility,
but a genuine response to a disturbed state of affairs that made the
continuation of formal teaching itself an irresponsible act.
Closing our classes in order to reassess our educational approaches
may well be the best educational investment San Francisco State
College can make for itself, for the State College system, and for the
State of California.
The trustees also heard a plea for protection from William T. Insley, a
campus technician, speaking for the 700 nonacademic employees of the
college :
As the sitting ducks in the shooting gallery that President Smith
proposes to open ... a majority of us want to know exactly what is
going to be done to ensure our safety when the doors to the gallery
are flung open and the guns are passed out to all save us.
The trustees turned to a discussion of the academic merits of black
studies and trustee Louis Heilbron expressed fear that it might be used as
a forum for "black power propaganda." He was assured by Vice President
Garrity that it would be under the same control as other departments.
Edward 0. Lee, the only Negro trustee, commented, "I can understand
the reluctance of some of the trustees to have black folks consulted be-
cause what might be propaganda to one person is education to another."
When President Smith said the faculty might be all black at first,
Trustee Charles Luckman called it "a frightening possibility."
"What you're saying," interjected Lee, "is that the faculty might be
all black because black people are most likely to be interested in teaching
black studies, not by design."
"Like George Murray," said Luckman, to which Lee responded, "What
you're really saying is that you don't trust your department, Mr. Luckman."
Governor Reagan, an ex officio trustee, then attempted to place the meet-
ing in what he saw as its proper perspective :
I don't think that they [the black students] understand the problems
or are representative of 90 percent of the responsible Negro community.
What we're here to determine is the reopening of that school. If it can
be opened in the next 15 minutes it should be opened. The answer to
50 Shut It Down!
maintaining safety on the campus is to rid the campus of those who
cause disruption.
The trustees then adjourned for lunch and an executive session. When they
returned they heard several additional statements. The San Francisco State
Alumni Association supported Smith's decision to close the campus and
urged that he be given autonomous power to solve the problems of the
campus and reopen.
Russell Bass, the college student body president, told them "San Francisco
State has been disfunctional for two weeks," and that "as long as the tensions
which created the violence and the problems creating that tension are
present, a program of education can't go on."
Lowell Clucas, a spokesman for the San Francisco State Committee for an
Academic Environment was also asked to make a statement. After he
reiterated the committee's position in favor of reopening the campus, trustee
Swim offered "congratulations."
Victor Lee, president of the California State College Student Presidents
Association, criticized the State college system for tolerating "outside
political intervention in its determination of internal affairs which is right-
fully that of the students, faculty, and local administration," giving "the
chancellor's office the ability to arbitrarily break traditionally established
standards of due process relative to the hiring and firing of professors,"
putting "such a tremendous amount of pressure . . . upon the president of
the college by his superiors in an effort to reduce those powers which are
rightfully his to that of liaison or errand boy," and permitting "with little
review, the existence of a superfluous, outmoded concept of curriculum
that of the general education requirements while it continues to review with
great detail, and reluctance at times, the establishment of minority studies
the most necessary subject matter in society's schools today."
He told the trustees, "If you open that campus by any means necessary,
you will simply be no more right than those who say that they will close
that campus by any means necessary."
The trustees, however, were determined that San Francisco State should
be opened. If there was general agreement on that principle, there was some
disagreement as to how it would be implemented. Not all of the trustees
were satisfied with the simple resolution which had passed, ordering Smith
"to open that college immediately." One trustee sought to modify the
language to direct Smith to "begin the process of reopening" the school;
another interpreted the board's action to mean that Smith should open the
college "as fast as practicable." Ultimately, there was an understanding
that the board's policy statement left the exact logistics up to Smith, and
that he could wait until Wednesday to reopen the campus.
During discussion of the order to Smith to reopen, the trustees agreed
that Smith could hold discussions with the strikers but directed that he not
hold formal negotiations or make concessions. The trustees accept as a basic
principle that they should not be in the position of negotiating under duress.
One trustee, a prominent lawyer, explained the trustees' action on the ground
that "No one wants to be forced into a position where, in carrying out a public
responsibility, someone substitutes his will for your will."
Robert Smith returned to the troubled San Francisco campus hoping to
reopen it through a series of convocations which he believed might result in a
The Strike 51
better understanding of the underlying issues by all concerned. He announced
that classes would resume Wednesday, November 20.
The faculty was distressed with the result of the Trustees' meeting. The
Trustees and the Chancellor, because no funds were available, had been un-
able to furnish needed financial assistance to the college; the faculty chafed
under the resolutions which had passed. A faculty meeting gave Smith both
cheers and boos, and the faculty voted not to teach. This put Smith in a
difficult light with the students. "It demonstrated that I was either un-
responsive to the faculty and students or that I was a lackey of the Trustees.
Take your choice."
THE CONVOCATIONS
Despite his position that classes should be held, Smith appeared at the
November 20 convocation with several of his top administrators.
He also urged students not planning to go to class to attend the convoca-
tion, urged students who were attending classes to attend the convocation
when they were not in class, called the convocation "the best way" to start
reopening the campus.
Although only a few classes met, several strikers expressed dissatisfaction
that the classes had not been formally canceled and that some were being
held. Nonetheless, they decided to continue the meeting at least for the
rest of the day.
Here is how the convocation went on November 20:
Jack Alexis, BSD leader, told the convocation audience:
We need new rules and regulations, a whole new education, so that
we can begin to have education that is relevant to us. Higher education
was originally started as education for the elite. Students are saying
that we're not part of the elite. Education for the elite is not relevant
for us. The role of white radicals is one of destruction, in a positive
way. If a structure is decadent, you must destroy it before you can
build. The role of black people is to build. That's what black studies
is all about. Black studies must be controlled by black people in a
large role because it's our thing, it's our baby. Maybe in a couple of
years we'll be able to open it up to everybody. Our objectives are to
contrive to define and refine the expressions of our community and
to contrive to explore ways of integrating the community into our
activities.
Leroy Goodwin of the BSU:
Our major objective is the seizure of power. Power must come to
the people and black power will come to black people. As things now
stand you must present your program to the pigs in power and they
must approve it. Until we have power, everything else is bullshit.
The dog believes we want to participate in his political games and
that if we demand 10 things all the niggers really want is five. Each
day the demands are delayed we will escalate our tactics. If armed
struggle is what is needed for us to control our lives and our educa-
tion, then that is what we will use. Peace and order are bullshit issues.
355-234 0-69-5
52 Shut It Down!
They don't mean anything to us unless we have control of our lives.
The pig administration has run down our attempts to win legitimate
demands by peaceful means.
Nesbitt Crutchfield of the BSU:
If you don't deal with the issues you won't deal with anything.
That's not a threat; it's a promise.
President Smith:
I look at this problem from the perspective of a social liberal.
Certain styles of action are alien and outside my view of the institution.
I agree with the needs but I disagree that it is necessary to revolutionize
the entire institution. We need a large amount of autonomy to do
what is needed.
Elmer Cooper, dean of student activities, and a Negro:
The Trustees are worried about a black studies department having
an all-black faculty. They didn't mention that there are departments
with all-white faculties. These people are scared of giving black people
control over their own destinies. Does the college plan to do something
about institutional racism or is is just going to fire black power
advocates? I haven't seen anybody fired for being a racist.
President Smith:
Among the mistakes I've made as president is not establishing an
interracial group to investigate racism.
Alexis:
The power is not on this campus. We must educate everyone on the
campus so we can go at the people in power. I hope that at the end of
this two or three days President Smith will join us in fighting the
Trustees.
Joseph White, dean of undergraduate studies, and a Negro:
The machinery of the college is not set up to deal with black demands,
it is set up to deal with white reality. We will never return to normal.
You can forget about that. More education has gone since the strike
started than in the six years I went to school here.
Throughout the turmoil of the fall semester, traditional faculty governance
mechanisms seemed woefully ill equipped to meet the challenges of this novel
crisis.
As the strike progressed, the other parties to the problem especially strik-
ing students and the trustees-seemed to regard the faculty and faculty senate
meetings, actions and proposals as irrelevant. An observer from the Washington-
based American Council on Education describes a portion of a November 19
faculty meeting:
In all faculty and senate meetings, we were impressed by the obses-
sion with parliamentary procedure, with nitpicking and endless points of
The Strike 53
order. [One informant maintained that this was the only weapon left to
the moderates.]
As soon as Bob Smith finished speaking, Chairman McClatchy sug-
gested that he would entertain a vote of confidence in the president.
At this point, a sequence of events occurred which must be described
in detail because it reveals so much of the spirit of SFSC and its faculty.
1 . Motion and second for vote of confidence in Smith.
2. Point of order: Such a motion must go to the Committee on
Resolutions, which has already established the order of the day, and
hence this is out of order.
3. Chair overrules the point of order.
4. Motion [angrily put] and many seconds to overrule the chair.
5. Chair calls for a voice vote. Yeas and nays judged equal.
6. Call for a division.
7. While the yeas begin to stand, microphone seized for a point
of order: Nonvoting faculty and students judged to be voting.
8. Chairman says he cannot sort out 1,000 people by sight, asks
for suggestions. Suggested that the hall be cleared and that only voting
faculty be readmitted. Much groaning. Hall cleared for 15 minute recess.
9. Faculty begin going back in, showing passes to two campus
police guards.
10. Meantime, side doors and stage doors are thrown open, and
students and nonvoters go streaming back down the aisles and even on
stage. (I asked the guard why he let obvious BSU members in. Guard:
"Listen, one of them told me that I'd better let them in or I'd get my
head busted. I ain't about to argue with thirty colored boys, so I let'em
in!")
1 1 . Result: Audience in exactly the same state, but now angry
and swelled in ranks by militant students attracted to the fray. From
this point on, all voice votes "tainted."
12. Many motions to adjourn, not debatable. All noisily shouted
down, sometimes without a formal vote. (Two faculty members walk
by me in the doorway, white with anger, explaining to a third, "Mob
rule.")
13. Finally, by an overwhelming voice vote, agreement to re-
convene next day in general session for a convocation and for open
debate between the president and the BSU leadership about "what is
possible."
14. Adjournment, followed by a call for a faculty senate meeting
in the front of the auditorium. Black students sitting at the front
refuse to move, say they will have to be carried out.
15. The senate (about half its members) give up and move to a
small conference room in the library building.
In the climate of confusion in the following days, Smith's plan to reopen
the campus through a series of convocations faltered. The campus was in
limbo-neither open nor closed. Attempts to hold classes were met by
striking students, first with protests, and later with disruptions. Much of
the time was spent with the faculty denouncing the trustees, and the
students denouncing the existing system of education.
54 Shut It Down!
The convocations failed, despite urging the support from San Francisco
Mayor Alioto. The Governor criticized the holding of the convocations,
and the trustees expressed anger that the faculty had not fully returned
to work; they considered the convocation just another delaying tactic.
In an exchange November 25, BSU spokesman Jerry Varnado called
President Smith a "pig," further reducing chances that the all-college
meeting would produce a solution to the strike.
PRESIDENT SMITH RESIGNS
The trustees called Smith to their meeting in Los Angeles on the morning
of November 26. During an executive session, Smith was questioned in detail
by the board as to when and how he would reopen the campus. His
answers did not satisfy them. They felt he was equivocating.
"He would indicate that he would open the campus, but then he
would say that if things changed he might not." The trustees wanted
the campus reopened; they wanted their policy carried out. "If it took
police to do so, then police would have to be used."
Smith felt he simply could not give the trustees a blanket assurance
that he could open the campus and keep it open. He felt the "mythology
and hysteria" on the campus had grown too great, and the safety of
individuals could not be assured. There was as little progress being made
in the trustees' session as there was at the convocation. A luncheon recess
was called and the morning session ended. As they sat at the table, the
discussion continued. Without prelude, Smith interjected into the
conversation: "Gentlemen, I will save you a lot of trouble here I resign!"
His resignation statement was brief; he says it contains the best summary
of the reasons for his resignation.
November 26, 1968
Memorandum
Robert R. Smith, President
San Francisco State College
REQUEST FOR IMMEDIATE REASSIGNMENT TO OTHER THAN
ADMINISTRATIVE DUTIES AT SAN FRANCISCO STATE COLLEGE
I request, as of this date, reassignment from the role of President to
duties other than college administration within San Francisco State
College. My reasons are:
1 . Inability to reconcile effectively the conflicts between the
Trustees and Chancellor, the faculty groups on campus, the
militant student groups, and political forces of the State.
Each has brought such strenuous pressure to bear, sometime
concurrently, in efforts to control decisions facing me as
college president in severely difficult situations that I believe
my effectiveness has been reduced below the point necessary
for successfully administering the college in the immediate
future.
The Strike 55
2. The desperate limitations in financial resources cast against
the commitments made in the colleges prior to my assumption
of the role of president, June 1, 1968, has been a major factor
in my decision. The rigid controls on the available resources
is also a crucial factor. Inability to gain relief from financial
crisis, evident since June, has contributed much to my
decision.
3. I believe any continuation in the role of president beyond this
date would merely relieve the various concerned groups of
the immediate and urgent necessity to face the many underly-
ing causes which provoke disorder on the campus, and moves
the college toward increasingly violent confrontations.
I appreciate more deeply than I can say the professional and moral
support I have enjoyed from so many of my colleagues, and others who
have worked desperately hard in an effort to resolve major college
problems during the past five months.
RRS.ml
Asked by the Study Team to elaborate on that statement, Smith said that
his primary problem was that he could not get the trustees and chancellor's
office to accept his diagnosis of the problems he was facing and give him the
money and the manpower resources needed to deal with them.
"As for the students and their guerrilla warfare pattern of disorders, I felt
we had to defeat eventually the tactics being used without defeating all the
aspirations that were involved in them which is a complicated operation."
There are some ironies in Smith's resignation. He has been described to
the Study Team as "possibly the most popular man [with the faculty] on the
San Francisco State campus." But not even his tremendous popularity was
sufficient to hold the college's activist faculty in line. And while his excellent
relationship with faculty members gave him a better chance than anyone else
to resolve the campus' problems, he was hampered by his poor relationship
with the chancellor. At the least it can be said that Smith and the chancel-
lor did not seek each other out during the 5 1 A months Smith was president
of San Francisco State. That this contributed to the difficulty is revealed in
the comment of one member of the chancellor's staff that Smith might have
avoided resigning "by talking with the chancellor about the decision to close
the campus." It is ironic that the question of reopening the campus could
not have been worked out, for Smith told the Study Team he had planned to
reopen the campus after Thanksgiving and he probably would have required
police force to accomplish this, just as his successor did.
Smith's sudden decision surprised everyone. It was about 1 p.m., and the
trustees' meeting was scheduled to end at 3 p.m. San Francisco State was
without a president in the midst of a serious crisis. Perhaps 100 newspaper
and TV reporters were waiting outside, and no one knew Smith had
resigned.
ACTING PRESIDENT HAYAKAWA
To replace Smith, the trustees immediately named as acting president
S. I. Hayakawa, 62, famous semanticist and part-time professor of English
56 Shut It Down!
at San Francisco State. Hayakawa had been active in the formation of a
group known as the Faculty Renaissance which had tried (with little success)
to rally faculty to end the student strike. He had also written several letters
to Chancellor Dumke on the subject of the troubled campus during the past
year and recently had urged a faculty vote in favor of reopening the campus.
Hayakawa had some definite views on the underlying causes of campus
violence. He was not certain that, even in the earlier days, before outright
violence surfaced, all that had taken place at the college was either responsible
or productive. He told the Study Team:
Central to the problem of violence on campus is the existence of
a large number of alienated young men and women [who] practically
take pride in being outside the main stream of the culture, of being
against the establishment, against authority, against the administration
of the college, the administration of the State of California, the
administration in Washington, whether it's a Republican or Democratic
administration. How did they get alienated? Well, besides the usual
psychologically neurotic reasons for this alienation there is something
else that's going on. I think they are taught this alienation by
professors. Especially in the Liberal Arts departments. The Humani-
ties, English, Philosophy, sometimes in Social Sciences. There's a
kind of cult of alienation among intellectuals, among intellectuals in
literary fashion such as you find in the New York Review of Books or
the Partisan Review. They sneer at the world the way it's run by
politicians, businessmen, and generals. Knowing that they themselves
are so much smarter than politicians, businessmen, or generals they
feel there's a dreadful world which they themselves ought to be running
instead.
The first great enunciator of this theory was Plato, who believed
that philosophers should be kings, and notice that he himself was a
philosopher. The contemporary literary critics and philosophers feel
the same way.
Supposing your're an alienated intellectual. You're a professor of
philosophy or something, you have no power, you have no influence
in Sacramento or Washington. But you can influence your students.
You use phrases like well, a phrase I just picked up from a professor
of English in San Diego the other day, "the illegitimacy of contem-
porary authority." Now if contemporary authority, of the State
government, the Federal government, the San Francisco police, is
illegitimate, then you are morally entitled to, in fact, it is your moral
duty to oppose that force. It becomes moral duty to oppose that
illegitimate authority. The middle-aged professor passes this on to his
young students. The young students are more likely to act upon this.
The authority of the police is illegitimate, therefore it's proper and
moral to throw bricks at them. It's proper and moral to resist the
draft, to resist the authority of the government in any way. And any-
one who upholds civil authority or military authority is regarded as
a tool of the interests, a tool of the military-industrial complex, etc.,
etc., and because the military-industrial complex is so powerful, so huge,
it certainly looks huge if you lump everything together into one abstrac-
tion.
The Strike 5
All means of bringing it down, fair or unfair, are justifiable. This
is why you find among young people today, not simply violence,
but completely outrageous forms of behavior.
You see, peaceful marchers protesting courageously racial injustice
under the leadership of a Martin Luther King never screamed
obscenities. They held up for thfmselves very, very high and rigid
moral standards. And by that they dignified their protest, they digni-
fied their cause. But our protests, especially from the white SDS, is
full of obscenities, full of shocking behavior, full of absolute defiance
of any values the civilized world insists upon. This is what I find so
terribly shocking, and I think it has its intellectual sources, in a kind
of disaffection, among, shall I say, the frustrated intellectuals. To
paraphrase a famous line, "Hell hath no fury like the intellectuals
scorned."
Now, professors tend, therefore, to give A's in their courses to
students that are alienated. And as the students get A's they get
appointed graduate assistants. Then they soon become professors
themselves. And then they pass on this alienation to another
generation of students, and college generations of students come fast,
after all. And before you know it, you have whole departments
which are basically sources of resistance to the culture as a whole.
All this upsets me very, very much. The universities and the
colleges should be centers for the dissemination of the values of our
culture, and the passing on of those values. But dammit, with
enough half-assed Platos in our university departments, they are trying
to make of them centers of sedition and destruction.
The trustees were delighted that Hayakawa agreed to accept the position,
and they gave him almost immediately the financial and manpower aid that
Smith had long requested.
Hayakawa's summary selection became an issue with some faculty mem-
bers who felt normal selection procedures were bypassed. The chancellor
points out that this was an emergency, and there was a necessity for positive
action. Even Robert Smith concedes that the trustees "were in a real tough
spot . . . when I walked out." Hayakawa remains only an acting president,
and the normal presidential selection procedure, operating through a com-
mittee of the faculty, continues to search for a permanent president.
Hayakawa's first weeks in office somewhat confused the official policy
with regard to keeping the San Francisco campus open. On his first day in
office he ordered the campus closed for 1 day prior to the Thanksgiving
recess.
(And on December 13, when he ordered the college closed 1 week early
for the Christmas holidays, his action was approved by the chancellor, as
merely a revision of the college's calendar, and by the trustees' chairman,
who said that "The threat of undue physical violence didn't warrant keeping
the campus open.")
58 Shut It Down!
By Thanksgiving, it was apparent that the lines of combat had been drawn
and the issues of the strike were clear. The pattern changed little through the
rest of the semester.
Acting President Hayakawa proved an enigma to observers and to some of
the men around him. He seemed to understand well the need to provide
access to a good and relevant education for all and he called for that in a
February 3 appearance before Congress. Yet he alienated a wide spectrum of
students and faculty, including many who opposed the strike, with a drum-
fire of get-tough remarks made when he first became acting president. The
bitter and bloody campus combat of the first week in December also harmed
his image with all but the most conservative portion which is small at San
Francisco State -of his academic community. His stature with the public
at large was high. Long puzzled by campus revolts, the American public and
San Francisco businessmen applauded the tough little professor.
Unfortunately, he antagonized the adult Negro community leaders in a
private meeting shortly after he became president. Many of them were upset
by the violence used by the young blacks but supported their demands, and
would have welcomed a settlement. They objected to Acting President
Hayakawa's "attitude."
His ability to obtain the good will of political leaders and the public at
large appeared directly inverse to his lack of success at reaching his campus
constituency. But the issues had been drawn before he took office and
perhaps it was beyond the power of any man to please both the trustees
and the students.
Hayakawa held a press conference on November 30 to announce his plans
for reopening the college. He said he was declaring a "state of emergency,"
under which campus disciplinary procedures would be accelerated, but not
bypassed. He was openly critical of the previous week's convocations,
suggesting that a return to regularly scheduled classes would be more relevant.
He was opening the campus primarily "because of the wishes of the vast
majority of students who are impatient to continue their education."
Police would be brought onto the campus if necessary to deal with dis-
order. Hayakawa rejected arguments that police have no place on the
campus. The purpose of the police he said, "is to protect dissent and to
secure us from those who would interfere with our liberties and endanger
our lives."
Hayakawa told the Study Team that he recognized the resentment
that may be caused by the presence of police on campus.
"I know," he said. "You just have to let them resent it, that's all. Be-
cause if you send them away, then all hell breaks loose. So, you know
sometimes you have to ignore people's racial prejudices for example, their
racial prejudice against the race of policemen. Just go ahead and do what
you have to do."
It soon became apparent that public relations was a strong suit for the
new president. In the early days after he assumed control, he appeared
to seize upon every opportunity to obtain news coverage and to give
broad expression to his point of view on the campus disturbances. One
The Strike 59
adviser, frustrated by the constant round of television appearances and
news conferences, told the Study Team, "I kept trying to interest him in
the issues at the college, but he was only interested in public relations."
Another observer thought the new president's emphasis on public
relations a shrewd device to build a power base. "He had no constituency
on the campus, he moved off campus, through television and speeches,
to create one off campus so he could come back with some power."
Not so. It was accident, not design, Hayakawa told the Study Team,
that pushed him into an aggressive program of public relations.
When, on December 2nd, I sort of blew my top and climbed that
sound truck and pulled out those wires it just happened that all the
media were there. And after that dramatic incident, right to this day,
television people, and radio people, and newspaper people are after me
constantly because that incident made me a symbolic figure. And so,
like any other symbolic figure, you're good copy, you're always news
just because you're there.
It wasn't anything planned. That was the luckiest thing that ever
happened to me that sound truck incident. It just suddenly, you
know, just placed power in my hands that I don't know how I could
have got it if I had wanted it.
Hayakawa rapidly became a national figure. Armbands, floral leis,
and a tarn o'shanter were all part of the trappings. Within a few weeks,
in his own words, he was "a folk hero."
But if he was a hero to the public outside the college, he angered
many within the faculty, the student body, and the surrounding community
by his actions and statements in early December.
The sound-truck incident received wide news coverage. And he made a
statement on Tuesday, December 3, which inflamed students and faculty
when, following a day which saw 9 injured and 31 arrested, he said, "This
was the most exciting day of my life since my 10th birthday, when I rode
a roller coaster for the first time." He also said that he "regretted very
much" the day's events.
LIFE ON STRIKE CONTINUES
It had been a regrettable day. While Monday had seen repeated maneu-
vering and skirmishing between students and police, and while there had
been minor property damage, few persons had been injured.
Tuesday, December 3, was different. In the history of the strike, as the
students recount it, the day is known as "Bloody Tuesday." Students
taunted police, and police struck back at the students. Rocks were thrown
at police, and clubs were brought down on students. It was a day which
brought charges of unrestrained and unwarranted police action; claims from
strikers (notwithstanding the injuries and arrests) of "psychological and
political victory"; and a statement from Hayakawa that he was "determined
to break up this reign of terror."
December 3 also marked the first time that a number of black community
leaders appeared on the campus in support of the students' demands.
62 Shut It Down!
A BRIEF RESPITE
During the Christmas recess, there were several meetings between trustee
and AFT representatives, arranged by mediator Ronald Haughton. The talks
began optimistically when Chairman Meriam agreed to send Vice Chancellor
Mansel Keene and General Counsel Norman Epstein to talk with the
teachers. But the discussions did not lead to any resolution of the dispute
and the teachers voted officially January 5 to strike.
The teachers' major strike issues included: (1) setting up well-defined
procedures and rules for dealing with faculty grievances, leaving the final
decision at the campus level; (2) amnesty for all those participating in the
student strike; (3) the student strike demands "be resolved and implementa-
tion assured"; (4) funds for hiring of more faculty members in order to re-
duce teaching loads; (5) rescission of the 10 disciplinary rules passed by the
trustees November 26; (6) approval of the student union plan done by
architect Moshe Safdie for the Associated Students; and (7) an end to efforts
to give the administration more control over student funds.
Another development during the Christmas recess was the initiation of
a study by the State attorney general's office of alleged misuse of Associated
Students' funds.
Acting President Hayakawa had earlier alleged that there had been such
misuse, as well as irregularities in the election of student officers, but said
the study was launched independently by the attorney general's office.
Only two irregularities were publicly mentioned during the vacation. One,
a check to the Reverend Cecil Williams for a speech, which he signed back
over to the BSU. Reverend Williams said he usually signed honorariums
back over to groups whose ideas he supported. The other, expenditure
of $150 by BSU leader LeRoy Goodwin for a gun. Goodwin said the money
was his salary check.
(In February, however, at the attorney general's request, the superior
court ordered the Associated Students' funds placed in receivership. Al-
though student officers opposed the order, the attorney general succeeded
in convincing the court that there had been general mismanagement of
trust funds and that the continued solvency of the student-run businesses
was highly questionable. Expenditures are now restricted to those specifi-
cally approved by the attorney general's office.)
Acting President Hayakawa announced tough new rules for the re-
opening of the college and that as many police as necessary to enforce the
rules would be used, although he would try to start out with as few police
as possible.
"With only four weeks left in this semester we all have a lot to do if
courses are to be successfully completed and credit granted," he said. "In
view of the foregoing the period beginning January 6 and extending through
January 31 is hereby declared to be a limited activity period. Specifically,
rallies, parades, be-ins, hootenannies, hoedowns, shivarees, and all other
public events likely to disturb the studious in their reading and reflection
are hereby forbidden on the central campus." He said rallies with the use
of sound equipment would be permitted on the athletic field, provided
they were "conducted and the crowd dispersed in such a way as not to
disturb classroom activities." He also banned "unauthorized persons
from off the campus" from using the central campus.
The Strike 63
"Unlawful picketing in support of strike activity" was banned, but "reason-
able information picketing" was to be allowed. Professors would be required
to hold their classes on campus, not off, as had been permitted during Novem-
ber and December.
MORE LIFE ON STRIKE
The reopening was peaceful. There were 2,000 teachers and students on a
picket line at the 19th and Holloway entrance and at entrances to some of the
major classroom buildings. Class attendance appeared to be below normal, al-
though it was impossible to make an exact estimate.
The Labor Council gave official sanction for the AFT strike, "with the
clear understanding that we do not regard student problems as labor strike
issues." The strike sanction also meant that deliveries, garbage collection, and
other work on campus by union employees would stop.
At his press conference on Monday, January 6, Acting President Hayakawa
said of the AFT strike, "A militant minority of the faculty has hitchhiked
onto the militant, violence-ridden student strike for a vicious power grab."
Earlier he had met with the Labor Council. He told them that San Fran-
cisco State was "a working man's school" and that it would "be unfortunate
if the working people of San Francisco closed it down."
He said he was considering hiring volunteer teachers to fill the jobs of AFT
strikers and that 50 people had already volunteered to teach.
California law provides that a teacher who is absent from his classes for 5
days without authorization is considered to have automatically resigned.
While there was much discussion of this provision, it proved almost impossible
to apply to the San Francisco State strike when 22 of the 57 department
chairmen refused to supply information on faculty attendance. Ultimately,
some faculty paychecks were cut. But in the resolution of the strike, Haya-
kawa agreed to seek reinstatement for all of the AFT strikers who had "re-
signed" under the law.
Of little use also was the injunction the trustees obtained against the strike.
While both temporary and permanent orders enjoined all faculty strike activ-
ity, including picketing, and although the orders were served on picketing fac-
ulty members, no attempt was made to enforce them. The combined student-
teacher strike served to cut class attendance. The administration and the AFT
made conflicting claims; the administration said attendance was 68 percent;
the AFT, 20 percent. The truth, according to reporters who surveyed classes,
was somewhere in between.
Picketing continued throughout the remainder of the semester. On some
days the pattern of confrontation was repeated, with police dodging rocks,
bottles, and bricks, and demonstrators dodging clubs and horses. Other days
were relatively peaceful.
On January 23, an estimated 800 persons converged on the speaker's plat-
form from picket lines all over the campus. Their purpose was to hold a rally
to strengthen lagging morale among the strikers, to reassert student (not AFT)
control over the strike, and to test Hayakawa's ban on rallies.
Only three persons had spoken when a college spokesman and then a police
lieutenant ordered them to disperse. The warnings were drowned out with
chants of "Power to the People" and "Strike, Strike." About 200 police be-
62 Shut It Down!
A BRIEF RESPITE
During the Christmas recess, there were several meetings between trustee
and AFT representatives, arranged by mediator Ronald Haughton. The talks
began optimistically when Chairman Meriam agreed to send Vice Chancellor
Mansel Keene and General Counsel Norman Epstein to talk with the
teachers. But the discussions did not lead to any resolution of the dispute
and the teachers voted officially January 5 to strike.
The teachers' major strike issues included: (1) setting up well-defined
procedures and rules for dealing with faculty grievances, leaving the final
decision at the campus level; (2) amnesty for all those participating in the
student strike; (3) the student strike demands "be resolved and implementa-
tion assured"; (4) funds for hiring of more faculty members in order to re-
duce teaching loads; (5) rescission of the 10 disciplinary rules passed by the
trustees November 26; (6) approval of the student union plan done by
architect Moshe Safdie for the Associated Students; and (7) an end to efforts
to give the administration more control over student funds.
Another development during the Christmas recess was the initiation of
a study by the State attorney general's office of alleged misuse of Associated
Students' funds.
Acting President Hayakawa had earlier alleged that there had been such
misuse, as well as irregularities in the election of student officers, but said
the study was launched independently by the attorney general's office.
Only two irregularities were publicly mentioned during the vacation. One,
a check to the Reverend Cecil Williams for a speech, which he signed back
over to the BSU. Reverend Williams said he usually signed honorariums
back over to groups whose ideas he supported. The other, expenditure
of $150 by BSU leader LeRoy Goodwin for a gun. Goodwin said the money
was his salary check.
(In February, however, at the attorney general's request, the superior
court ordered the Associated Students' funds placed in receivership. Al-
though student officers opposed the order, the attorney general succeeded
in convincing the court that there had been general mismanagement of
trust funds and that the continued solvency of the student-run businesses
was highly questionable. Expenditures are now restricted to those specifi-
cally approved by the attorney general's office.)
Acting President Hayakawa announced tough new rules for the re-
opening of the college and that as many police as necessary to enforce the
rules would be used, although he would try to start out with as few police
as possible.
"With only four weeks left in this semester we all have a lot to do if
courses are to be successfully completed and credit granted," he said. "In
view of the foregoing the period beginning January 6 and extending through
January 31 is hereby declared to be a limited activity period. Specifically,
rallies, parades, be-ins, hootenannies, hoedowns, shivarees, and all other
public events likely to disturb the studious in their reading and reflection
are hereby forbidden on the central campus." He said rallies with the use
of sound equipment would be permitted on the athletic field, provided
they were "conducted and the crowd dispersed in such a way as not to
disturb classroom activities." He also banned "unauthorized persons
The Strike 63
"Unlawful picketing in support of strike activity" was banned, but "reason-
able information picketing" was to be allowed. Professors would be required
to hold their classes on campus, not off, as had been permitted during Novem-
ber and December.
MORE LIFE ON STRIKE
The reopening was peaceful. There were 2,000 teachers and students on a
picket line at the 19th and Holloway entrance and at entrances to some of the
major classroom buildings. Class attendance appeared to be below normal, al-
though it was impossible to make an exact estimate.
The Labor Council gave official sanction for the AFT strike, "with the
clear understanding that we do not regard student problems as labor strike
issues." The strike sanction also meant that deliveries, garbage collection, and
other work on campus by union employees would stop.
At his press conference on Monday, January 6, Acting President Hayakawa
said of the AFT strike, "A militant minority of the faculty has hitchhiked
onto the militant, violence-ridden student strike for a vicious power grab."
Earlier he had met with the Labor Council. He told them that San Fran-
cisco State was "a working man's school" and that it would "be unfortunate
if the working people of San Francisco closed it down."
He said he was considering hiring volunteer teachers to fill the jobs of AFT
strikers and that 50 people had already volunteered to teach.
California law provides that a teacher who is absent from his classes for 5
days without authorization is considered to have automatically resigned.
While there was much discussion of this provision, it proved almost impossible
to apply to the San Francisco State strike when 22 of the 57 department
chairmen refused to supply information on faculty attendance. Ultimately,
some faculty paychecks were cut. But in the resolution of the strike, Haya-
kawa agreed to seek reinstatement for all of the AFT strikers who had "re-
signed" under the law.
Of little use also was the injunction the trustees obtained against the strike.
While both temporary and permanent orders enjoined all faculty strike activ-
ity, including picketing, and although the orders were served on picketing fac-
ulty members, no attempt was made to enforce them. The combined student-
teacher strike served to cut class attendance. The administration and the AFT
made conflicting claims; the administration said attendance was 68 percent;
the AFT, 20 percent. The truth, according to reporters who surveyed classes,
was somewhere in between.
Picketing continued throughout the remainder of the semester. On some
days the pattern of confrontation was repeated, with police dodging rocks,
bottles, and bricks, and demonstrators dodging clubs and horses. Other days
were relatively peaceful.
On January 23, an estimated 800 persons converged on the speaker's plat-
form from picket lines all over the campus. Their purpose was to hold a rally
to strengthen lagging morale among the strikers, to reassert student (not AFT)
control over the strike, and to test Hayakawa's ban on rallies.
Only three persons had spoken when a college spokesman and then a police
lieutenant ordered them to disperse. The warnings were drowned out with
chants of "Power to the People" and "Strike, Strike." About 200 oolice be-
64 Shut It Down!
gan massing on the campus. The students pulled into a tight group, their usual
tactic when confronted by police on the central campus, and continued the
rally. After the second call to disperse, the police charged, driving about half
the crowd away and forming a tight cordon around the rest. Those inside the
police cordon were told they were under arrest. There was some pushing and
shoving between the outer edge of the crowd and the police cordon. The po-
lice and their captives stood in a bone-chilling wind for 3 hours as police vans
shuttled back and forth, taking demonstrators to jail. Once inside the vans,
the demonstrators chanted strike slogans and banged on the van walls.
Those inside the cordon chanted strike slogans and "552-821 1," the num-
ber to call for bail. Several strike leaders made speeches. At about 1 p.m. an-
other group massed in front of the library. They began throwing billiard balls
and 4-foot 2 by 2 boards at the windows, forcing policemen standing in front
of the door into the building. The police then locked the doors and cleared
the library while other police drove the crowd out to 19th and Holloway
where they dispersed. The arrest total was 457, including many strike leaders
and black studies chairman Nathan Hare.
In contrast to the violence which marked the confrontations and arrests of
early December, the mass arrest on January 23 was carried out by a relatively
small number of police officers, and almost without injury. Tactics had im-
proved.
Acting President Hayakawa called the rally "an act of desperation" by
"hard core radicals and militants."
The AFT protested to Mayor Alioto the use of police "to arrest the per-
sons attending the rally at which there was no violence or threat of violence."
Alioto rejected their protest.
The strikers announced another "mass mobilization" for January 30.
Judge Edward O'Day issued an order restraining them from gathering in large
groups and Hayakawa announced that anyone already arrested on the campus
since November 6 and arrested again would be immediately given an interim
suspension.
On Thursday, January 30, seeing the large numbers of police on campus,
the strikers decided not to hold a rally because they felt the campus situation
was "a trap." At about 3 p.m. the strikers announced they were "declaring a
tactical victory."
On January 31, 1969, the fall semester came to an end.
ATTEMPTS TO BARGAIN
There were various efforts since the student strike began on November 6 to
move the controversies away from confrontation, with its potential for vio-
lence, and toward a bargained resolution of the issues. Some efforts never got
off the ground; others met with what must be described at this time as only
moderate success.
One early proposal for arbitration was made on November 1 1 by Cyril
Roseman, director of the urban studies program at San Francisco State. It
was rejected by the BSU.
On November 14, Mayor Alioto offered the services of an arbitrator, but
that offer, too, was rejected.
The Strike 65
Other offers to arbitrate over the next 2 weeks were also turned down de-
spite the mayor's announcement that he had a commitment from the legisla-
ture to send a joint committee to hear the demands of the militant students,
and some indications that the trustees might send representatives.
The trustees' resolution of November 1 8 that there be no negotiation, arbi-
tration, or concession of student grievances until order had been restored
made it difficult for any form of arbitration or mediation to get underway,
although President Robert Smith was proceeding with his plan to open the
school by airing the issues through discussions at the "convocations"; but the
convocations were short lived, ending when militant students denounced them
as a waste of time, since the demands were nonnegotiable.
Bargaining efforts centered around the Committee of Concerned Citizens,
brought together by George Johns, executive secretary of the Central Labor
Council with the active support of Mayor Alioto.
The American Federation of Teachers Local No. 1352 had asked the Labor
Council to sanction an official strike at San Francisco State College. On De-
cember 4, Johns invited community leaders to meet with the council on De-
cember 9 because "only this kind of massive community involvement" could
resolve the dispute. Invitations were sent to Reagan, Alioto, Dumke, Meriam,
Hayakawa, local political leaders, and various other leaders in the community.
Johns called in Ronald Haughton, a distinguished mediator of national reputa-
tion, teaching at Wayne State University in Detroit. At the December 9 meet-
ing it was decided to form a representative committee to attempt to mediate
the differences between college administrators and teachers and, in the proc-
ess, tackle the entire State college dispute. The Labor Council then announced
it would hold the teachers' request to strike in abeyance while attempts to
mediate were in progress. Johns announced that he would, however, grant
strike sanction if college authorities did not enter into "meaningful mediation
and negotiations."
The Concerned Citizens Committee was initially composed of 21 members
including labor leaders, businessmen, and clergymen. The committee was
without staff and without funds.
There was mixed reaction to the formation of the committee. Hayakawa
announced he would join in the mediation as far as "legal limits" would allow.
On December 10, 1968, Board Chairman Meriam sent a telegram to George
Johns which stated in part:
I must point out, and clearly, that the overall problem is a problem
of higher education in this State and that the Board of Trustees by Law
is the governing body, and that the members of the Board are the repre-
sentatives of the people of California. It is not appropriate for other
agencies, either official or unofficial, and no matter how well intended,
to attempt to intrude in an authoritative manner in affairs outside of
their true area of responsibility.
This telegram, however, was followed by a phone call from Meriam to
Johns saying that the telegram "was not intended as a repudiation of the ef-
forts of your group."
Meriam told the press that the telegram was not meant to "close the door"
on the possibility that the trustees might play a direct role in the mediation.
But Meriam continued that
66 Shut It Down!
as head of the board I have to observe the policy set by the trustees late
last month that there will be no negotiations or mediation while the
campus of San Francisco State is still in a condition of strife. At an ap-
propriate time, the trustees will be ready to consult with the persons
who are experts in the field of higher education.
Where Meriam's reaction was cautiously ambiguous, Governor Reagan's
was not. He said that no mediation was needed; a statement in which the
chancellor later concurred.
The Citizens Committee met for the first time on December 1 1 , and Bishop
Mark Hurley was selected chairman of the committee, which was to meet
weekly or more often if needed. It was decided that the committee must re-
tain neutrality to fulfill its role of setting up machinery for meaningful nego-
tiations in an unbiased atmosphere. Ronald Haughton announced at the
meeting that he did not want to be financed by any party which could affect
his neutrality. He therefore consulted with Samuel Jackson, the director of
the Center for Dispute Settlement of the American Arbitration Association in
Washington, D.C., and it was agreed that the center would administer the op-
eration. Haughton attended the meetings of the Citizens Committee regularly
and worked in close contact with Bishop Hurley during the next 2 months.
The Citizens Committee ran into problems immediately after its formation,
and even before it had begun to act, receiving criticism from Governor Reagan
and Board Chairman Meriam. The announcement of the committee by Mayor
Alioto and references to it in the press as "the Mayor's Committee" served to
alienate the Governor's Republican administration. Militant students greeted
it with a predictably adverse reaction, as they do anything connected with the
mayor's office which is often synonymous with "Establishment" and "police."
The committee viewed its success as dependent upon its own noncontro-
versial image and therefore enlarged itself from 21 to 39 members, bringing in
students and additional community leaders. The result was a rather unwieldy
39-member, racially mixed but predominantly white committee, which the
students viewed as "Do-Gooders-of-the-Establishment"; the chancellor and
the trustees viewed it as ineffectual; and the Reagan administration viewed it
as an arm of Democratic Mayor Alioto.
Two positive steps were taken by the committee which might have reduced
the violence. At the January 2 meeting, the committee voted to authorize
Hurley to urge Hayakawa and city officials to open the campus on January 6
without visible evidence of police, which was done. The second resolution
was adopted at the January 1 5 meeting when Hurley was given the power to
talk to city officials about the practice of police arresting students on the
picket line on old warrants, a practice which often produced violence. These
arrests were clearly distinguished from arrests at the time of overt violence.
The committee occasionally "observed" the San Francisco State campus.
William Becker, who served as secretary to the committee, is also a permanent
member of the staff of the city's Human Rights Commission. As such, Becker
was frequently on the campus as an observer; the mayor had requested staff
and members of the Human Rights Commission to be present on the campus
to observe police actions.
At a number of meetings the effect of the news media on the level of vio-
lence was discussed but no resolution could be agreed upon. The committee
The Strike 67
also discussed the question of amnesty but again failed to take a position. On
January 28, Hurley announced that he was considering the committee's mak-
ing its own recommendations for solving the campus dispute "to get the situa-
tion off dead center. There isn't," he said, "nearly enough free flow of infor-
mation and willingness of all sides to talk."
On December 12, Meriam appointed Trustees Heilbron, Thacher, Ruffo,
and Wente to a four-man trustee liaison committee to discuss faculty differ-
ences. However, Meriam cautioned that, pursuant to the Board of Trustees
resolution of November 1 8, there would be no major consultations between
college officials and local leaders on student and teacher grievances. Because
the AFT was threatening to strike December 16 with or without sanction,
George Johns exhorted the trustees to meet with union officials or suffer the
blame for further disruption.
Reversing his ground somewhat, Meriam reported on December 1 5 that
two representatives from the chancellor's office would meet with striking
teachers to hear their grievances. The two, Dr. Mansel Keene, assistant chan-
cellor for faculty and staff affairs, and Norman Epstein, chief counsel for the
trustees, were instructed by Meriam to comply with board policy and State
law. Therefore, there could only be "discussions" rather than negotiations.
Keene and Epstein began informal meetings with union leaders on Decem-
ber 19 with Ronald Haughton in attendance. Because of board policy, the
trustees' representatives had to pretend that Haughton was not present, but
Haughton found that he had little difficulty in talking with the representa-
tives. Formal discussions between representatives of the trustees and the AFT
opened on December 27 and continued through into January in an attempt to
avert the scheduled walkout of teachers on January 6. Tied by the board pol-
icy not to negotiate, there was no way to end the stalemate, and on January 5
the AFT voted to begin its strike the next day.
Talks with Keene and Epstein were broken off, but discussions with the
four-man trustee liaison committee continued. However, at one point during
the discussions the liaison committee could not even make recommendations
and at another time it was under orders not to stay in the same room with
George Johns for over 1 5 minutes.
On January 8, the State attorney general, acting on behalf of Acting Presi-
dent Hayakawa, obtained a temporary restraining order enjoining the faculty
strike. Hayakawa claimed that the teachers' picketing "contributed to the
tensions on this campus and threatens to bring about a renewal of violence
and disorder."
A few minutes after the court order was issued, Meriam abruptly canceled
another meeting that had been scheduled between Johns and the four trustees,
despite Meriam's previous assurance that he would honor union requests for
discussions at any time. The following day, Meriam conceded that the Gov-
ernor had asked him to call off the sessions, but Meriam added that other
trustees felt the same way. Meriam stated that "it was my feeling we were
moving into actual negotiations and board policy clearly states that there was
not to be any negotiations." Reagan blamed Johns for the cancellation be-
cause Johns continually referred to the talks as "negotiations" rather than
"discussions." Reagan added that if "negotiations" aimed at the settling of
the strike reached the State college board of trustees, "frankly, I would vote
against such negotiations." Later, Johns stated termination of the meeting
355-234 0-69-6
68 Shut It Down!
was disastrous. "If we had had that meeting, we would have undoubtedly set-
tled the strike. ... We were just about there."
On January 21, the trustees instructed its staff to continue dealing with the
teachers' union. The faculty strike remained very close to settlement for a
long time, with the prime remaining issue to be resolved that of the faculty
grievance procedure. Haughton, feeling himself unable to contribute to reso-
lution of this final point, returned to Detroit.
A resolution of the faculty strike was finally reached, late in February.
The AFT teachers voted to return to work (although the margin was extremely
narrow). The agreement included a new grievance procedure and some move-
ment toward an easing of the 1 2-unit workload. When the agreement was first
announced, it was opposed by the Governor, who said the trustees' liaison
committee had not been authorized to reach such an agreement. Nonetheless,
the Board of Trustees approved the settlement recommended by the liaison
committee.
At the December 18 meeting of the Citizens Committee, Bishop Hurley
announced that he had called in Samuel Jackson of the American Arbitration
Association, primarily to assist Haughton in dealing with the student demands.
The appointment of Jackson, a Republican, helped to mollify the Reagan
administration.
Over the next 2 weeks, Haughton and Jackson met with all parties involved.
However, on December 31, the Third World Liberation Front announced that
they would refuse to talk further with Haughton and Jackson, whom they
labeled as "lackeys and buffoons." The TWLF announced that henceforth
they would meet with the trustees or their representatives, but no one else.
At the January 2 meeting of the Citizens Committee, Hurley announced
that an informal invitation which had been extended to him, to meet with the
Central Committee of the TWLF, had been withdrawn, and that meetings be-
tween the TWLF, Jackson, and William Chester, vice chairman of the Citizens
Committee, had been canceled. It was also announced that a meeting had
been arranged through Louis Heilbron between the trustees and the TWLF
Central Committee for the next day. Heilbron admitted that this was a "re-
laxation" of the November 18 trustees' resolution. However, at the January 8
meeting of the Citizens Committee, Hurley announced that the students had
decided not to meet with the trustees on January 3, despite their earlier an-
nouncement.
During this period Jackson had been working secretly with Hayakawa and
some blacks, both students and faculty, through Roger Blount, a member of
the Black Students Union. Blount thought if he could reach an agreement he
could get the BSU to accept it. Jackson and Hurley were trying to get the ad-
ministration's response to the students' demands down on paper. Formulas
for agreement were being developed on such issues as the status of George
Murray, the enrollment of more minority students (using unfilled EOF quotas
of other State colleges), and amnesty problems. However, newsmen learned
of these meetings and on January 1 1 the Chronicle carried the story of the
secret meetings in a headline article. As a result of this expose Blount was
denounced by the BSU and all negotiations ceased.
Insiders say, in retrospect, that it was always doubtful that Blount could
muster the necessary support within the BSU for any proposal the discussions
might have produced. It is likewise unclear whether Hayakawa could have
The Strike 69
persuaded the Board of Trustees to accept such a proposal, had everything
been agreed to. However, all hopes of an early settlement dissolved when the
meetings became publicly known.
At the January 21 meeting of the Citizens Committee, Bishop Hurley re-
ported that he and Jackson were continuing to work with the college admin-
istration on formal statements of the college's position on the various student
demands. At the January 28 meeting it was announced that Samuel Jackson
was returning to Washington to assume a post in the Nixon administration,
and that he would be replaced by Derrick Bell, a Los Angeles attorney.
At approximately the same time as the formation of the Concerned Citi-
zens Committee, Jack Morrison, a San Francisco supervisor, organized a group
called the Save Our College Committee. Most of its members were personal
friends of Morrison and many were from the San Francisco Conference on
Religion, Race, and Social Concern. The chief interest of the committee at
its formation was to get the police off the campus, as the committee felt the
police were exacerbating, rather than alleviating, the situation.
The San Francisco State Alumni Association has played a relatively small
role in the recent events. After the violence in December 1967, the president
of the alumni association called together a group of community leaders who
issued a press release supporting President Summerskiirs handling of the dis-
turbance. However, this group never convened again and it was felt that its
purpose had been superseded by the Concerned Citizens Committee. Since
the George Murray incident, the alumni association has issued a few press re-
leases, which favor keeping the campus open though they have been unclear
what force should be applied to achieve this goal. It has taken no side in the
controversy but is now in the process of sending out a questionnaire to alumni
to assess sentiment so that a position might be taken.
The alumni association has tried to contact the BSU but, like the Citizens
Committee, the alumni are distrusted by the militant students. The associa-
tion gave some money to both the militant BSU and the conservative Com-
mittee for Academic Environment so that they could send representatives to a
trustees' meeting in Los Angeles and present their positions to the Board of
Trustees. On December 6, 1968, the association held a panel discussion on
the issues. Participating in the panel were Tony Miranda and Roger Alvarado
of the Third World Liberation Front and Prof. Edward Duerr, a campus affairs
coordinator under Hayakawa. Representatives of the BSU were invited but
failed to attend.
Nor was any significant role in the San Francisco State crisis played by the
San Francisco State Advisory Board. Each State college has such a board
composed of 7 to 13 members appointed by the trustees. According to State
laws, the board "shall consult and advise with the president of the college
with respect to the improvement and development of the college." However,
the board has no power to fulfill this duty. It is without staff or funds. Its
main function is to help raise funds for presidential inaugurations at the col-
lege (and thus it is kept quite busy at San Francisco State) and for special
projects. The board met infrequently under Summerskill and Smith.
At the January 21 meeting of the Citizens Committee it was resolved that
Hurley and Johns would discuss the need for the advisory board to become
involved in urging State officials to take action to resolve the dispute.
70 Shut It Down!
The chancellor's staff realized the ineffectiveness of the advisory boards
and on December 16, 1968, recommended a revised statement of the role of
the advisory boards. Recommendations include directives to the presidents
of the colleges to keep the boards better informed and to the boards to pro-
vide for more of a liaison between the colleges and the surrounding communi-
ties. Most importantly, the trustees' committee recognized that the advisory
boards could not perform any expanded role without adequate informational,
clerical and staff service which will require budgetary support.
THE STRIKE ENDS
Acting President Hayakawa and the BSU reached a settlement, announced
by Hayakawa at a March 21 news conference.
According to the newspaper accounts the administration granted the major
demands of the striking students for a minority curriculum and for the ad-
mission of more minority students. The administration agreed to set up a
School of Ethnic Studies, part of which will be the Black Studies Department,
it being understood that the admission policies at the School of Ethnic Studies
and the staffing shall be non-discriminatory. The administration declined to
continue the employment of Nathan Hare or to rehire George Murray.
With respect to enrolling more non-white students who do not meet the
admission requirements, the administration agreed to try to get the law
changed so that the college can waive the usual admission requirements for
10% of the yearly applicants rather than the present 4%. In addition, the ad-
ministration pledged to actively recruit non-white students, and this fall there
will be 4,750 non-white students out of the total enrollment of 17,700.
Chapter VI
THE BLACK COMMUNITY AND
THE REASONS UNDERLYING THE
ACTIONS OF THE BLACK
STUDENT STRIKE LEADERS
The first part of this report dealt with a description of San Francisco State
College, its place in the California State college system, some of the problems
created by the system, and a general description of some of the important
events leading up to and which occurred during the strike. The reasons for
the strike, however, cannot be fully understood without examining the atti-
tudes of the student strike leaders and the conditions which created those
attitudes. The student strike leaders at San Francisco State were not white
members of Students for a Democratic Society nor is there any hard evidence
that they are part of any national or international conspiracy. The student
strike leaders were, for the most part, members of the Black Students Union
who would not permit white students either to lead or participate in their
councils. The Third World Liberation Front leaders played a secondary role
in the strike. Accordingly, it is appropriate to examine in some detail the
attitudes of the BSU leaders and the conditions creating these attitudes.
THE CHANGED ATTITUDES OF THE
BLACK COMMUNITY LEADERS
When the President's Commission on Civil Disorders issued its report a year
ago, a number of black activists hooted at its conclusion that the United
States was tending toward two societies, one black and one white, separate
and unequal.
You're behind the times, they said. The Nation is already separate and un-
equal, and has been since the early days of slavery. The question is, What are
the people in power going to do about it?
Black and Third World student leaders heading the strike at San Francisco
State College have carried that conclusion one step farther. Many who just a
few years ago debated what the Nation should do to reunite the two Ameri-
cas no longer discuss that. Despite a flood of good words, they say, white
America- the group in power-has proved by its actions that it will do as little
as it can get away with. Therefore, they argue, the issue has become one of
seizing power: Power that minority groups need to deal with their long-
71
72 Shut It Down!
neglected problems themselves, and power to show white America that it
can no longer get away with doing as little as has been done in the past.
This adds up to one of the first attempts at a truly radical reorganization
of a major American institution, and the tactics used by both sides will prob-
ably be refined for use by antagonists in other parts of the Nation. Contained
within this drive to reorganize are ways of looking at the communities one
lives in that are fundamentally different from the modern American norm.
They are feelings of obligation toward one's people, and, turning to the poli-
tics of confrontation, constantly confronting the power structure, to keep it
off balance, to wear it down until it reacts with such fury that it horrifies its
own supporters and recruits support for the other side. People who "knew
them when" at San Francisco State College say many of the student strike
leaders did not always feel this way. They see these feelings generated over
the past few years by a very complicated chain of events, but a chain whose
links fall primarily into two categories the unsatisfactory resolution of Amer-
ica's centuries-old racial struggle, and the unsatisfactory methods of coping
with a much newer problem, urban life.
The student leaders' position is not necessarily separatist. Many individ-
uals who accept it argue that, in the long run, nothing will be solved unless
there is a coalition of third world groups with whites who see the same needs.
It is, however, an excellent indication of just how separate the United States
has become, for the students who lead the strike are clearly looking at quite a
different society from the one seen by most of the administrators and politi-
cians they say they are fighting. Many have been far more active in their own
communities than the average student, and their view of the two Americas
has been shaped not suddenly but over a period of time by what they and
their friends have gone through. One can paint in broad outlines the topics
that crop up again and again in conversation. We are the wealthiest nation in
history, but children of minority groups are still more likely to be crippled in
body and mind by the struggle to live and become someone. Despite 5 years
of urban riots, a clear indication that something is wrong, the Nation has
shifted only enough to let a few of the most highly qualified minority group
individuals move up. It has done almost nothing about the vast majority still
trapped in the slum-bred poverty and ignorance that has been America's her-
itage for them. And if there is any doubt about the Nation's real intention to
avoid acting, one need only look at school desegregation. The Supreme Court
declared it illegal 15 years ago, more than a reasonable amount of time to
crack down on the recalcitrants. But the efforts made to date add up to al-
most nothing when viewed against what remains to be done. And the students
are keenly aware that many people of their parents' generation fought the
same battles they see themselves fighting. It their tactics worked, they say,
why do we have to go through this all over again. We have trusted white
America long enough. She has betrayed our trust for the last time. If she will
not act, we must.
Investigation turned up no reason to suspect these feelings will go quietly
away, or be allayed with more promises. Adults who do not subscribe to all
these views but who work closely with black youngsters in particular are fond
of pointing out that, whether they like it or not, a new breed of young people
is emerging from the Nation's ghettos. They are far more aware than their
parents were of what the Nation has actually done, as opposed to what it has
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 73
said. They like to discuss "myths" and "contradictions" like the phrase "lib-
erty and justice for all" in the pledge of allegiance to the flag. And they do
so derisively. They have begun a movement back toward the different lan-
guage, different customs, different traditions that evolved over hundreds of
years of separate ghetto existence while white Americans were looking the
other way. And they are far more inclined to attack what they see as a schem-
ing, dishonest system on some front than their parents were.
"They began to see that there were continuous activities by the white com-
munity to shut them out of the major society," wrote black student leader
James Garrett in 1967. "Their response to these activities has been the seek-
ing of their own methods of change and growth. Finally, as a people, they
began to adopt new standards." And this movement, as Garrett pointed out,
has "the deepest of implications for American society."
"The spin-off from San Francisco State," said black Berkeley city council-
man Ron Dellums, "will have implications for high schools, junior colleges,
junior high schools, elementary schools as well as other colleges throughout
the state and outside the state, if it is handled properly."
These views are found over a wide spectrum of black and Third World peo-
ple, but particularly among the young activists whose interests tend toward
activities like community organizing. They can result in fights against urban
redevelopment, individual politicians, community power groups, the police,
the draft, or any other issue the activists see as threatening. When the activ-
ists are also legitimately students at an urban college, however, the attack
zeroes in on the educational system. Many persons interviewed pointed out
that the United States talks of education as the great equalizer. Get a good
education, the society says, and when you come out you will be able to cope
with life's problems. The student leaders saw, however, that not only is it
more difficult for minority students to get a good education but even those
who make it through are not equipped by their schooling to solve the dis-
crimination problems they have always faced.
The student leaders "felt very strongly about a program that -as they
would put it -would be relevant in regards to the educational process by
which they could go back to the ghettoes and work with people," said The
Rev. A. Cecil Williams, a black minister who has worked closely with them.
They had tried everything that the white man taught them, and we
[adult black leaders over 30] had tried it, and it didn't work. And we
were now saying in fact that there are new moods and new tempos and
new vibrations that we understand which are not understood in the
academic community, and if they're going to be workable they must
become a part of the educational process.
At San Francisco State, two key concepts are found in Garrett's remark.
The first, "Their response to these activities. . . ." We are not initiating vio-
lence, the student leaders say, we are responding to it. Particularly to a kind
of violence that whites have dealt minority groups for centuries.
"Is not the status quo as violent as any Watts or Newark or Detroit?"
asked Georgia legislator Julian Bond, at a black student meeting a year ago,
bringing his audience cheering to its feet. "Is it not violent to condemn to
death twice the proportion of black babies as white babies in their first year?
74 Shut It Down!
Is it not violent to send twice the proportion of black men as white men to
Vietnam every year?"
The second key concept is ". . . seeking of their own methods of change
and growth." In one sense it is futile to ask whether violence is a good way to
demand things simply because many of the student leaders accept it as a legit-
imate tactic, as valuable when properly used as the threat to withhold an
appropriation from a Congressman's hometown if he does not vote right. Au-
thorities, they feel, are capable of putting off decisions indefinitely until they
suddenly face the threat of having something torn down. Besides, they argue,
the United States is not really opposed to violence, despite what it says, or
violence would not be used so indiscriminately in Vietnam. If the country
were really opposed to violence, it would not allow police forces at home to
behave as they did in Chicago during the Democratic convention, and in the
ghettos since the end of the civil war. There are guidelines for its use, just as
politicians and businessmen have rules to decide when they can get what they
want by cajoling, and when they have to threaten. For example, many believe
it makes no sense to terrorize by planting bombs where people might get hurt,
because it destroys so much support that the tactics become self-defeating.
But individuals differ on the guidelines.
The leaders appear determined not to be guided any longer by white
society's view of what is or is not acceptable.
Significantly, the leaders' underlying principles that drastic change is
needed to make education relevant to minority students have won wide sup-
port from black community spokesmen, and substantial backing from ele-
ments of the teachers, the administration, and the student body in general.
This has tended to be obscured by news accounts that focus on the tactics
used, instead of what the students feel are the underlying issues.
A July 22, 1968, preliminary report on the college from the office of the
Chancellor of the California State College System notes:
What has taken place this past year ... is considered far more serious
and far more meaningful. Serious because there appears to be so little
understanding of the nature of student protest by so many people, in
and out of authority. Meaningful because the demonstrations that have
occurred may well represent the first flowering of social revolution as
Europe and South America have known it for some years.
The report lists the "fundamental causes" of campus unrest as war protest,
racial discrimination, desire to use colleges and universities as vehicles for so-
cial change, curricular irrelevance, and institutional inertia and resistance to
social change. Its authors conclude:
"The push to utilize the campus as a staging ground for social reform can
be debated but probably cannot be deterred."
And Robert Smith, president of San Francisco State College for 7 months
in 1968, noted in an interview:
... the basic struggle on the campus ... is not necessarily the hard core
activists. The struggle is with the other 25-45 percent of the students
and faculty, and their loyalty, and this is where we were losing, and by
disorderly decision making processes we were either losing or we weren't
gaining ground.
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 75
The student strike leaders at San Francisco State College differ sharply
from the stereotype of the average college student. Many have spent several
years exercising an unusual amount of responsibility and authority over their
own college careers, and there is a long history leading up to the frustration
they now say they feel. The following history of both the Black Students
Union and the Third World Liberation Front indicates the attempts they
made to get what they considered relevant education in the college. Their
actions on strike cannot be understood outside of this history, for they are
in the truest sense products of America.
MINORITY ENROLLMENT
In one sense, San Francisco State is a victim of California's attempt to set
up a three-track higher education system, where the best students would go
to the University of California, the next best to the State colleges, with the
junior colleges reserved for anyone else. The dean of students' office said no
registration statistics were kept by race before 1968, but administration and
student strike leaders agree that until last fall, the proportion of minority stu-
dents was steadily and visibly decreasing.
Donald Garrity, vice president for academic affairs, said that, when he
came to San Francisco State College in 1956, "I saw more black faces in a col-
lege classroom than I had ever seen in my life. I never walked into a classroom
that had less than 10 percent ... I often had 20 percent, and that was pretty
startling in 1956 in a college classroom."
No one is sure when the proportion began to drop. One administrative
assistant said she could see the numbers decline after admissions standards
were tightened in 1965. In that year the college added performance on a
Standard Achievement Test (SAT) to admission requirements that had been
just a high school average in the top third of the graduating class.
"This very systematically excluded a lot of students who had inferior high
school educations," she said. "They might have done well in their own
schools, but their SAT scores would pull them down."
This drop was quite visible to minority students attending San Francisco
State College at the time, and quickly became a sore point. Every Black Stu-
dent Union member interviewed by the Commission brought it up spontane-
ously when asked why black students grew frustrated with the college admin-
istration. So did most of the black community leaders. So did the campus
ministry, which issued a late 1968 statement reading:
The need for educational opportunities and special programs for
minority groups is pressing. At present approximately 4 percent of the
student body of San Francisco State are black students. Four years ago
they accounted for 1 percent of the student body.
Not everyone in authority, however, was as acutely tuned to this change in
enrollment.
"Now we are talking about 1966," said Garrity, "and I like a lot of other
persons still saw 10-15-20 percent black faces, when in fact it was 4-5 percent
black faces. ... I was still kind of laboring under the notion that nothing had
happened. San Francisco State had been the place of many doors was a place
almost anyone could get in ... by 1965-66 we weren't that college at all. We
76 Shut It Down!
were taking off a higher percentage group. The ghetto lad didn't have a
chance to get to San Francisco State."
Nevertheless, by the 1966-67 school year, there was so much concern that
a series of open meetings was called by President John Summerskill to explore
the problems of black students.
"This series grew out of our concern over the drop, over the past five years,
of the percentage of black students which make up the student body," notes
a report prepared last year for the Council of Academic Deans. The report
then goes on to hint at a feeling which was growing even then, and which was
to erupt as a major force behind the student strike:
"Within these discussions, one of the major causes for this drop was estab-
lished: the feeling among many students, not only black, that much of the
work required for a college degree is irrelevant. The black students felt that
this was a failure of the American middle class."
One of the things to eventually come from those meetings was a special
admissions program for the 1968-69 term creating vacancies for 427 Third
World students. The administration did not fill all the promised slots, and
the breaking of that promise was also a major factor in the strike. But even
with that program in operation, the college's official ethnic survey for the fall
1968 semester shows 75.9 percent white students, 5.3 percent black, 2.3 per-
cent Mexican-American, 7.9 percent Oriental, 0.5 percent Indian, 1 percent
Filipino, 7.1 percent answered either other, or nothing.
Statistics for the previous year were 83.9 percent white, 4.2 percent black,
1.0 percent Mexican-American, 8.6 percent Oriental, 0.5 percent American
Indian. There was no Filipino category that year.
Student strike leaders often compare these statistics with the minority
group population of San Francisco well over 50 percent in their efforts to
prove racist admissions policies.
Governor Ronald Reagan's view is that students not qualified to enter
San Francisco State College ought to go to one of the junior colleges, which
were designed for just that purpose.
The feeling among the strike leaders, however, is that the education in
those 2-year schools is not as good, and that even if it were, admissions poli-
cies designed primarily for the culture of middle-class whites would screen out
minority students when the time came to transfer to a 4-year school. Eleven
of the Black Student Union Central Committee members alone transferred
to San Francisco State College from junior colleges, several under a special
Black Student Union program that permitted transfers whose grades would
normally be unacceptable.
The students got considerable support from black community leaders in
their arguments that San Francisco State College, given its urban location,
ought to serve the community and be open to anyone who wanted an edu-
cation there. For one thing, they argued, San Francisco State College gives
its students more resources to work with.
"The principle that they started out with was a sound one," said black
Berkeley City Councilman Ron Dellums, commenting on the junior colleges,
"except that it excludes certain factors. At the junior college level there is an
assumption made. The assumption is that you are going to get a lower caliber
of students. However, they haven't built in the necessary resources to do any-
thing about that."
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 77
Two things resulted from this concern over admissions that were to have
enormous effects upon the later campus turmoil. One, due to many other
factors as well, was a much sharper awareness developed by San Francisco
State College's then largely middle-class black student leaders of the educa-
tional problems of blacks who had not had their advantages. The other was
a conscious and partially successful attempt by the school to increase the per-
centage of minority students who might not otherwise qualify.
The effect was to help cement a bond between black college student and
black community that made its weight felt later in several of the original 10
nonnegotiable demands.
BIRTH OF THE BSU
San Francisco State's Black Students Union has an ancient history as these
organizations go. Ancient and unusual in the amount of political experience
it gave its members both in the college and in the larger community. While
most college BSU's date from a year or so ago, the one at San Francisco State
College can trace its history back to September 19, 1963, when a group of
Negro students petitioned the student government to form a Negro Students
Association (NSA).
The college's student government, run then and now largely by whites, was
unique at that time in the amount of money it controlled, and the freedom it
had to use that money, derived from student fees. It could charter and fund a
variety of student organizations, which then fought each other in and out of
the student legislature for funds, and ran their own programs. College records
show the NSA was approved by the student government on January 30, 1964.
This new organization came to the campus at a time of nationwide polari-
zation over the issue of race. The Birmingham, Ala., church bombing that
killed four little girls was still fresh in student memories.
One of the few black faculty members around at that time remembers
most of the black students as primarily middle class, but "upset, going out of
their minds" over the question of civil rights and racial discrimination. Many,
along with many whites, had been part of the sit-ins and freedom marches in
the South, or would head for Mississippi for the Student Nonviolent Coordi-
nating Committee's 1964 Mississippi summer project. And in addition to the
civil-rights turmoil on the national scene, a lot of things were happening lo-
cally. Students remember that black community spokesmen who addressed
campus audiences made "quite an impact on some of these kids." especially
some whose impassioned rhetoric aimed generally at the idea that blacks
needed to take education seriously and to develop their own economic
institutions.
DeVere Pentony, now dean of the School of Behavioral and Social Sci-
ences, recalled:
I had Peace Corps training programs in 1963. I used to bring on for
the Peace Corps training group some of the black militants to give Peace
Corps candidates who were going abroad, many of whom had never seen
a ghetto, never had a black relationship, some sense of what their Amer-
ica was really like. . . .
I had a student . . . who was very much in tune with what was going
on in the ghetto and the intellectual movements there. And it was that
78 Shut It Down!
group that inaugurated the magazine Black Dialogue. And we had kind
of the beginnings of all of this at San Francisco State. And these guys
were moving out through the whole country saying black is good, black
nationalism is good ... we were getting a lot of black kids who were
saying black is beautiful, black is what we are, don't straighten your
hair, and all that. This was 1963-64.
Even at that time, said Pentony, these young blacks were divided over the
question of integration. "Integration isn't our scene," some of them said. "It
is OK somewhere in the distant future, but black is beautiful. Very strong on
Negro rights, but divided on integration. They started reading black history
and all this kind of thing and that was important to them. This is the way you
get dignity. We come up to the North and we hear freedom and we don't find
freedom. We don't find any of these things that are important. The people
are trying to integrate us but they don't really want us."
According to its constitution, the NSA was to "engage in projects which
the membership considers to be in the interest of the Negro community; to
engage in the study of Negro history and life; to foster the growth and dis-
semination of Negro cultural contributions." Students there at the time re-
member that it seemed to go through four different phases over its first cou-
ple of years: First, after deciding student government officers were not acting
in their best interests, an unsuccessful attempt to form a coalition with a con-
servative slate of candidates in return for more funds, then a try at working
out an alliance with a liberal-radical slate shaken by the attempt to link up
with conservatives, then a period of work in the black community, primarily
campaigning against urban renewal in black slums, and finally a sort of African
arts and culture phase.
A three-quarters vote of all members present changed the name "Negro
Students Association" to "Black Students Union" in March 1966. In the
meantime, while some activist blacks had been seeing what they could do
with the NSA, activist whites with a few blacks had been putting together a
variety of other student funded and controlled programs which eventually,
in the form of the tutorial program and the experimental college, would play
a major role in the direction taken by the BSU.
In February 1966, a black student transferred from East Los Angeles City
College to San Francisco State College. His name was James Garrett, he was
24 years old, and was to become the single most important figure in creating
the BSU that exists today, even though he left in spring 1967.
Garrett had been a SNCC organizer in Watts, and before then a SNCC field
worker in the South.
"The reason I came to the campus was to try to do some organizing," Gar-
rett told the Commission in an interview. "I wasn't interested in going to
school for any other reason than to organize the students."
Nevertheless, he was a good student, rolling up well over a B average, col-
lege records show, in courses described by one administrator as including "a
little bit of everything."
"Garrett was also blessed with a fantastic brain," recalls one black com-
munity leader who knew him. "Garrett, if it had been available to him, would
have been at Oxford College. A student without effort, he could write, he
could organize, he had personality, he could speak, he was just a phenomenal
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 79
fellow. He could get people to follow him, and he could still dance and party
with everybody. . . ."
Vice President Garrity, a frequent target of the BSU, described Garrett as
an extraordinarily bright and able guy, as bright and able as they come,
committed to the cause of black people. And a guy who was very much
ahead of the time. He did, I guess, really have a real charisma about
him, although he did not emerge on the campus. He was invisible as a
charismatic leader for a little while. This was on the general campus,
but with the BSU he was magic. He had it there. ...
He got his few guys to associate closely with him, and develop the
cadre with them, and from a rather loosely formed organization, Jimmy
managed to transform that organization into one which said "to hell
with it we'll be black, dammit, because black is beautiful."
An informed white member of the Associated Students legislature remem-
bers his role as follows:
Garrett taught a course at the Experimental College, attended their
staff meetings. This was after Watts when the rhetoric of burning scared
people. One of the things he did was hold informal seminars on the
commons in the afternoon, talked real militant.
In May of 1966 he really started moving. ... He had made a power
analysis of the college, identified the group who were in control of the
Associated Students, decided that the Associated Students of San Fran-
cisco State was part of the same power structure that blacks had to con-
front all over, then moved in on the tutorial program ... as a white
thing doing real damage to blacks . . . George Murray and Garrett then
took over the tutorial program, about the late summer of 1966
This was the first real mobilization of the BSU.
That summer Garrett was elected chairman of the BSU Garrett
led the BSU in a series of funds demands. At this time most of the
liberal-radical coalition that dominated student government for 6 years
was going through this "Gosh, am I a white racist after all?" thing. The
blacks would come in with pretty inflated demands, and there were
some wild [verbal] battles. Lots of rhetoric, lots of packing the rooms
with more blacks than whites, inexplicit threats. We learned how to
have meetings while people pared their fingernails with their switch-
blades.
(Garrett denied any switchblade knives were ever used, pointing out that they
are illegal in San Francisco.)
The white liberals, most of whom felt themselves personally committed to
the black cause, agonized over what to do, the legislator said, and finally "we
decided to hang tough."
While this did nothing to decrease the intensity of the tactics the BSU was
developing, it did, he felt, create considerable mutual respect. The BSU came
up with "a very good education program" to be funded, he said, and turned
out to be willing, even after particularly violent battles over funds, to take a
program back and revise it if the legislature decided it was unacceptable.
It was not an easy decision for the whites to make, however. On the one
hand, they were afraid there might be physical violence, although "the battles
80 Shut It Down!
never came, in that sense." On the other, many felt that monitoring how the
BSU spent student funds had real racist overtones of the kind they were criti-
cizing in the rest of society. "We insisted we would not turn over blanket
funds to BSU," said the legislator. "We said the money is available, but you've
got to do a program of some quality."
"The best thing about fighting with Garrett was he knew what his self-
interest was," the white said. "It was possible to build coalitions based on
self-interest, or fight it out on who was best prepared. It was a period of a
lot of respect, I think mutual."
An interview with Garrett confirmed the basic direction of the white legis-
lator's testimony.
"We had the only solid, concrete program, cultural program, on the cam-
pus," Garrett recalled. "What we had done, we had not only taught children
how to read, we had . . . given them such a base of understanding that when
they went back they had enough confidence to read what they wanted to
read. . . . None of the programs were revolutionary programs, although they
were designed to build black consciousness."
But, Garrett said, blacks felt the legislature was really saying the programs
"couldn't be good because black people ran it ... so we took the position
that we were going to have what we wanted to have. . . ."
Question: You say that you didn't use tactics of intimidation?
Garrett: "Sure, but we didn't use any switchblade knives. . . . I'm
not saying nobody ever got jumped on, but nobody ever got jumped on
at a meeting."
Garrett's organizing techniques are one of the keys to understanding the
student strike, because many of them are still being used.
"I wasn't interested in building the strongest BSU in the world," he said,
"but I was interested in building the strongest black people. So they can
build their own institutions."
"I knew that you had to organize black students around issues that are
close to them," Garrett said. "Separate issues that you have to organize
around, cultural things as well as political. They are two separate cultures.
So I went up there and groups were broken down into several differ-
ent groups. One group was the Nationalists, who mostly dominated
cultural aspects, who mostly dominated the Negro Students Association.
There were the sororities and fraternities, there were the integrationists,
the men who went out with white girls, girls who went out with white
men . . . and then there were just students who were trying to be what
white students are all around the country, just try to go to school to
be a good white person. . . .
Starting in February through the beginning of March, I started mov-
ing through all these different groups, because I could do it, because I
was not known.
Garrett said he personally undertook to make a more militant organization
out of the BSU.
I didn't want the chairmanship. I just wanted to pull the organiza-
tion together, so I worked to do that. I tried to pull all these different
forces together ... and they began to settle down to work projects, dif-
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 81
ferent kinds of projects, like how to cut out racism in different areas on
campus. Finding out what classes were racist. What teachers were rac-
ists. We began to set up, well, we call it internal education programs,
where we would meet at my house or someone else's house and we
would talk about ourselves, seeking identity. ... A lot of folks didn't
even know they were black. A lot of people just thought they were
Americans. Didn't feel themselves that they were black people. We
discussed that a great deal. . . .
At the same time a couple of people in the organization besides my-
self were beginning to see ... that the school itself is racist, at the same
time people were saying that it was real absurd that when they began
to seek out things in the community which was not far, about four
miles away from the school, they began to see things in the community,
in the Fillmore area, Hunters Point area, which made what they were
learning wholly irrelevant. So we would . . . argue about whether or
not we should do something about it, should we burn the city down,
whatever should we do? So people were arguing on all kinds of levels.
Garrett's discussion of getting Negroes to realize they are not just Ameri-
cans is another example of the separate nations, mentioned by the riot com-
mission. For Garrett was just one of a number of young black activists strug-
gling to define this concept at that time, although most of the others were
nowhere near the San Francisco State College campus.
The same dialog was going on in earnest that summer of 1 966 in the Stu-
dent Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, where blacks were beginning to
push whites out of positions of power, and some whites were beginning to
leave voluntarily, arguing that by spending their summers working in the
South they not only increased reprisals against local Negroes when they
packed up and went home in the fall, but they also prevented Negro children
from seeing that black people like themselves could be just as talented as
whites.
That summer was also the one where Stokely Carmichael gave young black
activists the Nation over a rallying cry when he shouted "Black Power" on a
march through Mississippi. By autumn, newsmen who covered civil rights
could hear the question being debated from the street-corner soapboxes of
Harlem to the largely white experimental college organized by decidedly
middle-class students at Stanford University. But because most of it took
place in black neighborhoods at meetings like those Garrett would hold, prob-
ably the greatest single number of white adults who learned it was going on
were the parents of white college students whose sons and daughters would
come to them for advice on debates going on at school.
Garrett described his principal goal as "building a strong base on the cam-
pus around the issue of taking power, because ... I felt then and think now
that an organized minority controls the world, and that we should organize."
He said he spent the summer of 1966 taking some San Francisco State Col-
lege students into the South Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia "to let them
see what was happening . . . and it changed everybody who went down there."
When he came back, he wrote a philosophy and goals for the BSU which "laid
out a perspective. "We worked hard trying to be white folks and found out we
couldn't, and we had lost interest in that. Now our goals are revolutionary
and we had a cultural program. . . ."
82 Shut It Down!
STUDENT ACTIVISTS-THE SAN FRANCISCO STATE TRADITION
While Garrett struggled to shape the BSU into a cohesive instrument of
power, white activists, helped by a few blacks and Third World students, were
working to develop two other programs equally radical in concept. Both were
to become important tools for the BSU in its drive to expand black conscious-
ness, but they did not start out with that in mind.
One was a ghettp tutorial program born partly from the frustrations of dis-
illusioned liberal whites who had begun to see that there was as much wrong
on the civil-rights front at home as there was in the South.
The other, the experimental college, was an attempt to develop courses
dealing with problems the students felt important, but problems not recog-
nized as legitimate areas of academic study.
"These programs . . . were designed by students, led by students," wrote
Pentony in a September 19, 1967, report to the college's Council of Academic
Deans, thereby getting information firsthand, and not just from textbooks.
And the strong feelings of independence this fostered were helped along by
the experimental college's emphasis turning students on to educating them-
selves.
Administrators who worked with the programs in 1965-67, when they
were getting firmly established, remember it as a time of trial and error amid
great excitement, of mutual respect and communication, of conflict and tur-
moil. The students' decision to develop and run the programs gave them at
once more responsibility, more authority, and more insight into what the
"experts" were doing wrong than students at other universities. And some
of the "experts" were their professors.
"They have complaints about the way they are being taught and want
some courses overhauled," said Glenn Smith in 1 966. "The students are ques-
tioning the very nature of teaching, and it may be a good thing."
Certainly it gave both black and white students a much stronger base for
challenging in later years systems of education and decisionmaking with
which they disagreed. They had, after all, proved that they could success-
fully develop and program much of their own education. One example of
the kind of challenge to come later from white students is the introductory
letter to the 1968-69 student directory. It reads:
Brothers and Sisters:
What you see on the front page of this directory is our proposed Col-
lege Union, a building designed for and by students and entirely paid
for by them. It has been vetoed by the Trustees three times already,
not on practical grounds, but because it is an expression of our culture
and our aspirations [emphasis in original] .
Since you are here to learn, let this be a lesson: why do twenty-five
Trustees, who in no way relate to the everyday learning environment of
our campus, have the right to veto a project that is entirely paid for by
students? From there you might go on to ask why the Trustees have
the power of total fiat over our campus, when we, faculty and students,
produce the entirety of the work, academic or otherwise, that occurs
here?
Once you have begun arriving at answers to these questions, hope-
fully the true value of this directory will emerge. It is an organizing
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 83
tool, a way for us to come together and identify ourselves, our purposes
and our rights. Only by coming together can we make this college func-
tion in a truly democratic manner and make it responsive to the needs
of all people.
Liberty, Fraternity, Equality.
Russell Bass, President,
Associated Students SFSC
Alberto Duro, Vice President,
Associated Students SFSC
An example of the challenge issued by non whites is the student strike.
There is a general feeling among the school's administration that the civil-
rights movement in the South, with its explosive confrontations either wit-
nessed firsthand or brought into student homes in prophetic black and white
on television, was crucial in shaping the thrust of both black and white radi-
cals at that time. Students who had gone South only to be told, "Why don't
you work in your own communities?" came back with "some glimmering of
decisions that would face them," said one administrator active in those early
programs.
These were mostly "white, middle-class kids," the speaker continued. It
was their first real confrontation with authority, and "they were so shocked
by what they saw people being beaten and FBI guys standing around saying
they couldn't do anything," that many came back determined to make the
educational system deal with the problems that had defeated them.
"After you've walked around a picket line in front of a store trying to in-
tegrate it, your feet get tired or something," said Roger Alvarado, one of the
early directors of the tutorial program. "It seems as if the problem is a little
more basic than integrating Mel's drive-in or Cadillac Row."
Not all students active in developing new programs had been South, but
activists talk among themselves, and in one administrator's opinion, "the
ethos was important . . . kids talk to each other and experiences rub off."
The speaker described the process this way:
The first community project of our students began about 1964. It
was the idea of five men, four whites and a black, who had been busted
for the sit-ins on San Francisco's auto row. They ended up in a jail cell
with each other, and they talked about the things that needed to be
done. They decided something was wrong with the schools. So they
came back and started setting up a program to teach in the community.
... It taught reading and writing to elementary school kids.
That was the start of the Fillmore tutorial program, which began in a small
Baptist Church on Divisadero Street with about $20 in Associated Students
funds, and expanded to 22 centers involving more than 500 college students
just before the student strike. It might never have become crucial to the BSU
had it not concentrated on teaching black children. But as it went about its
task, it became clear that two different things were going on. The whites were
concerned with educating black children, while blacks in the BSU were con-
cerned about that and something else besides.
"At first many of the church people were distrustful," wrote Guy Sandier,
the program's first coordinator, in September 1964.
355-234 0-69-7
84 Shut It Down!
They were distrustful of secularization and of condescending advice
from do-gooders out of what they had seen to be predominantly white,
predominantly indifferent college community. They were wary that it
would happen as it had before, that outsiders would come to tell them
how to do for themselves and how to solve their problems when these
outsiders in fact knew little of the situation in the ghetto and had tasted
none of the problems.
But it was eventually possible to convince people in the Fillmore
that those who were working for the tutorial were asking for an oppor-
tunity to learn as much as to teach. ... It was necessary to talk at great
length and to gain the confidence of the people in the Fillmore.
An opportunity to learn as much as to teach. Two years later, in both
black SNCC circles throughout the South and at San Francisco State, black
activists would begin complaining that when whites learned in such circum-
stances, it was always at the expense of the blacks they said they were trying
to help, and that if whites wanted to learn, they should do so by trying to
organize their own communities and stop racism at its source. The argument
simply points up once again the different concerns that were beginning to
separate the world of black activists from the world of whites.
The whites would come away "frustrated at the length of time it took
them to relate to a black person," recalled Alvarado. Those who kept trying,
though, gradually became aware of a whole cluster of problems that do not
normally intrude on the academic student's consciousness. They would get
involved in family programs. A child just would not seem to be able to con-
centrate, and it might take the tutor several weeks to establish enough confi-
dence for the youngster to explain that he was hungry every morning, or that
he had broken his glasses the month before. So the tutor would visit the
mother, only to find out that this was the fourth time in 2 months the child
had broken his glasses, and the welfare worker had been so nasty and threaten-
ing the last time she asked for extra money for a new pair that she had been
afraid to ask again.
Or perhaps the child had picked up a nagging fear from a mother who was
almost beside herself because she was being forced out by urban renewal and
had no place to go.
"They started hitting the education and social sciences schools with the
realization that the academic disciplines were not providing them with the
answers to the problems they saw," said a college administrator. "They didn't
want to talk about redevelopment with only a 20 percent displacement fac-
tor. . . ." And despite the fact that the lack of books with pictures of non-
white children was considered a major problem, "the school of education said
a child is a child is a child, and no punks with jail records could tell them
about kids."
Some students concerned with these problems, combined with others,
went to work creating the experimental college, designed in part to offer
academic credit for some courses that did answer problems the students
were facing.
Blacks in the BSU, however, were moving along lines much more conscious
of their own separate identity, and doing so in an increasingly organized way.
Even in 1964, when the Negro Students Association was just getting
started, some black students were warning prospective tutors that "People
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 85
have come here before to help. They got what they wanted out of the ghetto
and then they left," or:
"Some whites, most all of them, have never stopped to feel the daily burn-
ing which a Negro has inside of him. You'll have to have that kind of empathy
for the feelings of these kids if you want to give anything to them at all. ...
You'd better be ready to find preconceptions and prejudices in yourself which
you never thought you had."
"Some black kids were working with the program because they were con-
cerned about what was happening between the tutors and the kids," recalled
a former student active in the BSU at that time.
There were some very destructive things going on like kids becom-
ing very dependent on white tutors, and they [the tutors] reinforced
this, and then when the whites had to leave, they left, and there the
kid was, hanging.
I saw this come out in some very destructive ways. Like John, a
nine-year-old, who I saw take food and . . . throw it at the face of a
white, acting out against the whites his reaction to rejection.
This was brought to the attention of the BSU. We felt compelled to
take some steps toward increasing the number of black tutors in the
community. Some of the kids were telling the tutors they were more
beautiful because they had long straight hair, and the tutors would re-
inforce this.
But when the BSU tried to recruit more blacks for the tutorial, they found
that "the orientation of the black tutors we were sending was no different
from that of the whites."
To reeducate these students along more black-oriented lines, "so they
would not perpetuate the mistakes of the past," the BSU began using the
just-organized experimental college's Black Arts and Culture series as a politi-
cal tool.
"Through the experimental college we hoped to reeducate black students
who were identifying with the white community," the former student said.
"Through the experimental college we would then talk about the needs of
the black community. That was the initial interaction with the community."
One of the tools they used was a book by Carter Goodwin Woodson, The
Mis-Education of the Negro, copyrighted in 1933 and now out of print. It
takes the position that Negroes had been educated to perpetuate the power
structure, rather than to develop skills and a community.
"The fight was not that the program should become black," the student
said. "But that blacks should teach black kids, Orientals should teach Orien-
tals, Spanish should teach Spanish."
Alvarado remembers most of the students running the tutorial program as
whites from 'Very heavy religious backgrounds, Jewish, Quaker, Catholic. All
were involved in the civil rights movement, civil liberties, things like that."
Most, he said, "felt pretty guilty, too," about what America had done to
blacks.
The effect on the people involved was gradual, he recalled, It was not un-
til the summer of 1 966 that Garrett first began to move in on the tutorial pro-
gram, "the idea being that white people working with black children makes it
that much more difficult for black kids to get positive images of themselves.
86 Shut It Down!
If white people were concerned about what racism was doing to black people,
they should confront their own attitudes.
For about three months the tutorial program was in an unstable con-
dition . . . like two sets of meetings every week, one to deal with oper-
ating the program, and one encounter meeting. They were interracial,
and outa sight, man. They [the whites] really got frightened about
what they were beginning to realize about themselves. The blacks
pushed this off on them at first, but later they began to debate it
themselves.
By the fall of 1966, Alvarado himself had become convinced the blacks
were right. He adopted the position, however, that if blacks were going to
comprise most of the tutorial staff, then they should control the program.
He met with Garrett over the summer, worked out some accommodations,
and when the fall term started turned over the reigns of the program to three
coordinators, two of them black. The BSU had established its first major base
of operations, and, by 1967, Ben Stewart, the present BSU Chairman, could
write:
We entered this project with the position that since 85 percent of
the children tutored are black, then the tutors should be predominantly
black and in fact control the tutorial project. This relationship has de-
veloped to the point where in May 1966, 90 percent of the tutorial pro-
gram was white, now two-thirds of the leadership is black.
BSU, A GOING THING
Under Chairman James Garrett, the BSU continued to move, both on and
off campus. By 1967, a revised constitution called for setting up tutorial cen-
ters, establishing a "lecture tour for Bay Area high school and junior colleges
to give insight and to encourage the black students to continue their educa-
tion," and setting up a statewide news media to inform black students of
news programs and services pertinent to them.
"A large part of our thrust for 1967 will be the move to more closely as-
sociate ourselves with black community to aid in organizing our people around
the issues which directly affect their lives," Garrett wrote in a statement of
philosophy and goals. "We must also associate ourselves with the organiza-
tions which most directly relate to the needs of black people."
The new constitution also established on- and off-campus coordinators.
The on-campus coordinator was to help with lecture tours, tutorial programs,
and to "involve the black professional community in the Bay Area as sponsors
in club-oriented, academically motivated fund raising programs for black high
school and college students." Off campus, the job called for helping set up
black-student-initiated touring lecture series, and developing a Bay Area fed-
eration of black students.
Like its old NSA counterpart, the new constitution contained a nonrestric-
tive clause. But where the old one had simply forbidden membership restric-
tions based on race, religion, creed, or political affiliation, the new one added
that any student "will be considered a member ... if he identifies with the
concept of blackness."
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 87
There was one other interesting similarity. The 1963 NSA constitution set
up a syllabus committee "designated as one of the permanent committees
only as it takes to incorporate into the curriculum of San Francisco State
College a course in American Negro History."
Language in the 1967 document was almost identical, except that the
words "American Negro History" were changed to "Black History."
By June 1967, activities had expanded to the point where the BSD felt the
need for year-round funding, and drafted a proposal for the San Francisco
State College Foundation for summer funds. Garrett's covering letter read in
part:
... In September 1966, because of expanding community interest in
the affairs of the black students on this campus and a deepening aware-
ness of the needs of the community by black students, the BSU saw the
need to broaden its programs. . . . These programs consist mainly of (1)
Internal education project in which black students learned about their
history and values as a People. There is intensive examination of Afri-
can, Afro-Latin and Afro-Asian Cultures as it relates to Black people in
this country. (2) High School Black Culture Programs. This program
came out of a concern expressed to BSU by Dr. Laurel Glass of the San
Francisco Board of Education and the Honorable Terry Francois, San
Francisco Supervisor, about the lack of interest in high schools by mi-
nority students. With this concern in mind, we have been working with
people of high school age attempting to instill in them a sense of pride
and dignity. One result of this work has been the development of Negro
history and culture groups at three high schools in the area. (3) On-
campus education and cultural programs. These programs are designed
to educate and entertain the students of SFSC using black music, po-
etry, drama, and dance as a medium. ... (4) BSU Theater Project.
This project which began last semester as the Black Communications
Project has performed all over California in all communities. . . .
The language in Garrett's letter does not begin to describe the intense po-
litical dialog going on within the BSU at that time. Blacks like Garrett, who
saw the world in sharply political terms, ready to reach down and smother any
individuals who were not aware of its weak points and prepared to fight back,
were constantly trying to convince less-aware blacks, sometimes described as
those who "tried hard to be good white people," that they had to wake up,
pay less attention to all the nice-sounding phrases the various levels of Ameri-
can society put out, and much more attention to what it was actually doing.
The message was roughly: If you believe the promises that white people
in power make, then you're a fool, because history shows they usually find a
way to avoid keeping them, and we can prove it.
History taught by the BSU carefully documented this charge, bringing up
examples ranging from the U.S. Supreme Court's Plessy vs. Ferguson, post-
Reconstruction decision that separate but equal was legal, to the fact that
many signers of the Declaration of Independence owned slaves, and the
theory that President Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation
not because he believed slavery to be wrong, but because it was in the eco-
nomic interests of the North at the time.
88 Shut It Down!
They would also point out that most black students did not learn facts like
these in their elementary and high school history classes, and argued that their
exclusion had to be part of a deliberate plan by a racist power structure, be-
cause otherwise the facts could not have been so well suppressed over so many
decades.
One conclusion to be drawn from this approach and a conclusion some
BSU members often talked about was that education in this country is de-
signed to perpetuate the myths that the power structure wants perpetuated,
and therefore is detrimental to black people who seek the truth.
While this was going on, the BSU continued to develop new programs, in-
cluding a special admissions program for black students that brought in about
30 during 1967 who would not normally have qualified for San Franciso State
College (SFSC) because of grades. Some showed dramatic improvement in
their grades after coming to SFSC, and some wound up on the BSU Central
Committee, their decisionmaking body.
At the same time, new political tactics were being developed, political not
in the narrow sense of party and electoral politics white society normally
thinks of, but in the sense that almost any action can be looked at as a politi-
cal move in that it helps or hurts your movement toward some ultimate goal.
In this sense, the student strike is a political weapon.
Some white students remember that blacks would take a tape recorder
to meetings with faculty and administration, so that later, if an official tried
to argue that he had not said something, the record could be brought out and
played for him.
Tape recorders were brought to news conferences, where the black spokes-
man would point to them before the assembled newsmen and announce, "I
don't want to see something in the papers tomorrow I didn't say." They had
learned the way in which newsmen often take only sketchy notes of what is
said and later fill in inaccurate details by faulty memory.
"We say here is the documentation," Garrett noted. "We take it to the
black students and we say here's the documentation, what do you think we
ought to do? ... We bring the documentation with us, and say man, you
know you've done this, this, this, and this, and you can see for yourself that
it is racism, so why don't you cut that out?"
"We'd take people to the president's office, to the dean of students' office,
so they could sit and listen to white folks discuss their lives, discuss black
folks' lives, and they could learn from that."
Activities like these served in fact were designed to "heighten conscious-
ness," to do what Stokely Carmichael calls "sharpen the contradictions," be-
tween the way the Nation treats whites, and the way it treats blacks, and in
so doing to create a strong sense in the black student of why he cannot con-
sider himself just an American who "happens" to be black.
Not all of the BSU ideas on how to heighten consciousness were original,
although many were. The most active students also traveled, talking to other
black activists in various parts of the country, and they read a lot. Malcolm
X, Stokely Carmichael, Frantz Fanon, Che Guevara, and Chairman Ho Chi
Minn were among the writers and strategists' techniques and attitudes most
frequently borrowed.
There was also communication with staff members from the Congress of
Racial Equality, SNCC, the more radical elements of the National Association
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 89
for the Advancement of Colored People, the National Urban League, and a
new organization springing up in nearby Oakland, just across the Bay, called
the Black Panthers.
Communication along these lines was natural, because all these individuals
and groups were facing the same basic problem: how to organize a country's
disenfranchised nonwhites into a force that could put a stop to their own ex-
ploitation by whites. No overall agreement was approached or even attempted.
There were too many differences of strategies, tactics, and the people being
worked with. But from this dialog carried on in large part beneath the level
of consciousness of the white community new tactics and ideas emerged, to
be tried out both on the SFSC campus and elsewhere.
It should be pointed out here that it was not necessary in most cases to try
to hide these activities from the white world. Black activists had learned long
ago that whites simply did not care to pay as detailed attention to the black
world as they gave to their own, and this was another example of the two
separate worlds that kept developing.
To those who paid detailed attention to the black community, examples
were so numerous and easily seen that they created a lot of hostility toward
whites, particularly toward the news media, which were seen as the filter
through which information had to pass to get into the white world.
Blacks were angered, for example, that newsmen came into Mississippi in
the summer of 1964 with the influx of white northern volunteers, stayed
while the whites were there, then packed up and left when the whites left.
The struggle had not begun with the whites' arrival, they argued, and it cer-
tainly did not end when the whites went home. But the newsmen acted as if
it had. They did not seem to care whether white southerners carried out re-
prisals against blacks during the winter, when all the white volunteers were
back in school. And there was considerable argument a year later over
whether the country would have been as agitated over the murders of three
young civil-rights workers in Philadelphia, Miss.-James Chaney, Andrew
Goodman, and Michael Schwerner had not Goodman and Schwerner been
whites from the North.
Blacks learned that newsmen did not know their way around the black sec-
tions of their cities, that they had no clear idea of the dynamics going on in
those neighborhoods, that they were less likely to send reporters to a discus-
sion on race relations held among blacks in the black community than they
were if the discussion were held among whites downtown, and that they
tended to look for people who could "speak for" Negroes as a whole, and
call them "Negro leaders," instead of recognizing the enormous variety of
opinion among blacks as to where they were going, and how they could help
progress along.
Feeding on tactics and ideas like those just outlined, with lots of lively de-
bate, the BSU was slowly shaped into the organization it is today. Other con-
cerns went into building it, too.
"When I went to their meetings before the strike," said one black woman
student, "they were very concerned with their membership. The BSU and the
Black Sisters Union specifically that was a function of another power strug-
gle, the girls felt they were being left out in the cold and they tried to figure
a way to get out of their secretarial positions.
90 Shut It Down!
"But they were also concerned and so were the boys for that matter
with representing the entire black community on campus. And they were
worried because their image was, they said, only of girls who were naturals
and were politically radical. And they had to reach the girls in the dormitories
or the girls who were uninvolved. And they were trying to figure out how to
do this . . . they were aware of this and they felt that it was a fault."
A central committee representing a broad spectrum of activists was in
charge of the BSU when the fall 1968 semester began, its officers elected by
the BSU membership.
"You have the revolutionary vanguard, the separatists, nationalist philoso-
phy, the militant reformists, and all of them coming together, and in each
faction's mind a way to resolve the problem in different ways," commented
an observer. Chairman Benny Stewart and on-campus coordinator Jerry Var-
nado are generally considered the most revolutionary in tactics and philoso-
phy, while administrators and faculty who have worked with or confronted
the BSU say financial coordinator Nesbitt Crutchfield, tutorial director
Thomas Williams, and Jack Alexis, head of the Center for Educational Inno-
vation, are considered not necessarily less militant, but very aware of all sides
of issues and easier for whites to communicate with.
Policy results from often lively debates, but campus officials and most
black community leaders interviewed believe power in the central committee
has shifted a good deal toward the more revolutionary types since the strike
began, partly because of the pressures of running a day-to-day series of con-
frontations with campus authorities and police, and partly because of the
response to what they consider legitimate demands by police and California
political officials. Not all BSU members agree, for example, that the demands
should be nonnegotiable, although since they lost the vote on that point they
agreed to go along with the majority. But they do object to being broadly
compared to Nazis by Acting President S. I. Hayakawa, who they feel is guilty
along with many others of not making distinctions between the various groups
within the BSU, or even between the BSU and some of the white radicals who
have been smashing windows and throwing rocks at the police.
It was difficult for Commission investigators to talk to BSU Central Com-
mittee members because they voted, after debating a request for a group inter-
view, not to cooperate with any arm of the Federal Government. Some, how-
ever, had given interviews before the ban was voted, while others were willing
to discuss the organization's history, but not its current workings.
There was also a great deal of resentment expressed about investigations
being carried on at the same time by the State attorney general and the U.S.
Justice Department, pointing up once again the differences between the BSU's
view of the world, and that taken by the average white American.
THE NEW NONWHITE STUDENT LEADER
The BSU's off-campus center is not a particularly easy place to find, even
when you have the correct address. First you have to find the center of
the "Fillmore," a narrow, low-income, mixed-minority group neighborhood
of Victorian-style wooden buildings stretching north over a series of hills from
Market along Fillmore Street. The address is on Ellis, but Ellis Street stops at
one of the sparkling concrete urban-renewal projects neighborhood groups
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 91
have raised so much protest over, and you have to snake your way around to
a battered, three-story structure in the slummiest, blackest part of the Fillmore,
where rotting buildings are rapidly being abandoned in the face of the advanc-
ing urban renewal. There, hand-crayoned signs direct visitors to the down-
stair meeting halls or the upstair tutorial office. One door of the BSU center
has been smashed away from its padlocked hasp, and propped shut from the
inside with a battered old table. Weatherbeaten plywood panels cover
smashed windows. It is the kind of neighborhood where, in larger cities,
whites instinctively lock their car doors as they drive through.
Middle-aged and elderly black men lounge around the signposts and
building corners throughout the day, some drunk, others just idle. Toward
the middle of the afternoon, one of the city's largest interracial prostitution
operations swings into action, supplying a variety of girls to stroll the side-
walks in microminiskirts or tight bell-bottomed pants until well past dawn
on some corners, volunteering a variety of services to anyone who does not
look like a plainclothesed cop.
One block from the BSU office, on Fillmore, between Eddy and Ellis,
the San Francisco office of the Black Panther Party serves as a gathering
place for the younger blacks into the "militant look" big, bushy Afro
hairdo's for both men and women, black leather jackets for the men, boots
for the women. Someone is usually manning a table out front where a
variety of Panther literature, ranging from "antipig" stickers to Chairman
Mao pins printed in Chinese, is for sale beneath windows plastered with
recent issues of "The Black Panther, Black Community News Service."
"Get out of here, man!" a young, white hippie was told recently as he
stepped hesitantly down the street, obviously under the influence of drugs,
toward a group of Panthers and BSU members talking in the doorway. "If
you want to trip, go trip someplace else!"
The hippie kept coming, protesting that he just wanted to talk, and a
couple of the black guys spoke with him gently for a moment, then
ushered him back in the direction he had come from.
"You should have busted him one, man," said one of the Panthers. "I
would have."
Violence, all around. From the obvious the feeling that the hippie
should have been flattened on the sidewalk to the subtle-the attitudes
black children pick up as they romp in the nearby streets, listening to the
shouting and the cursing and bumping into drunks and streetwalkers. As
sociologists have often pointed out, this is the kind of neighborhood where
those who wish to get along well in the streets learn to fight their own
battles. Violence is no stranger to these blocks, and to hundreds of others
in San Francisco's minority neighborhoods. Many of the BSU and Third
World central committee members live, or spend considerable time, in this
neighborhood or others like it, and the language and attitudes they bring
from there to the campus reflect this violence that is a basic part of ghetto
life in every city in the United States.
San Francisco's crime statistics reflect this basic ghetto violence. Among
nine police districts, the one that includes the Fillmore ranked generally
highest in 1966, 1967, and 1968 in homicides, robberies, aggravated assaults,
larcenies, and burglaries. It lost top ranking only to the district that includes
Haight-Ashbury, another slum, on forcible rapes, and to that district and the
92 Shut It Down!
one that includes Hunter's Point, the third major Negro slum in the city, in
auto thefts. Over the past 3 years, the police district that includes the Fillmore
reported slightly better than one-sixth of all the city's crime in those
categories.
The Panthers have plastered the neighborhood with hundreds of the new
urban art-form posters preaching their message in various ways, but always
making their main point that guns are essential usually by putting the
picture of a rifle on every poster, including those that announce rallies. A
fairly common one features ink drawings of five ferociously charging men-
two blacks, a Mexican-American, an Indian, and an Oriental carrying a
variety of prominently held weapons that include a fiery torch, a hand
grenade, automatic rifles, a dagger and for the Indian a bow and arrows.
It bears the legend:
"We are advocates of the abolition of war ... we do not want war. But
war can only be abolished through war and in order to get rid of the gun it is
necessary to take up the gun." It is signed "Chairman Mao."
Occasional photos of the late Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., are lost amid
the jumble of posters of Eldridge Cleaver, Stokely Carmichael, LeRoi Jones,
Malcolm X, and a variety of other black radicals in heroic, weapon-bearing
poses. H. Rap Brown holds aloft a burning match without comment on one
poster, while another proclaims Carmichael, "Prime Minister of colonized
Afro-America."
Even a dozen blocks from the Panther office, the posters are common.
"A rule of thumb of revolutionary politics is that no matter how oppres-
sive the ruling class may be, no matter how impossible the fact of making
REVOLUTION may seem, the means of making that REVOLUTION are
always near at hand," one reads. Another is much shorter: "The spirit of
the people will be stronger than the pig's technology." And on the white-
painted walls of the burned-out Pilgrim Rest Missionary Baptist Church,
someone has repeatedly stenciled in black letters: "The Revolution is
Coming Tom Paine."
On the southwest corner of Turk and Fillmore, an old supermarket has
been taken over by the State. Its plateglass windows proudly proclaim in
big gold letters, "State of California Service Center, Ronald Reagan,
Governor." On its side wall are three prominent posters. The first, an
Eldridge Cleaver campaign tract left over from his Peace and Freedom Party
presidential candidacy, reads: "Our purpose in entering the political arena
is to send the jackass back to the farm and the elephant back to the zoo."
The second shows Kathleen Cleaver holding a pump shotgun at waist level,
aimed just past the viewer's shoulder. Its caption: "Shoot your shot." The
third is a photo of the late Panther, Bobby Hutton, with the caption,
"MURDERED BY OAKLAND PIGS." Sometimes it is displayed in conjunc-
tion with another showing three uniformed Panthers waving their flag in
front of Oakland's Civic Plaza. "The sky's the limit if you kill Huey Newton,"
it reads.
A half-dozen blocks to the south, the Third World Liberation Front uses
donated space in a church as a legal defense office. These streets are not
known at all well by many of San Francisco's middle-class whites, but their
mood, and the mood of similar Spanish-speaking areas of "The Mission" and
the side streets of Chinatown, has been a powerful influence on non white
student leaders, both in the methods they use to express themselves and in
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 93
what they have to say. Couple this with the other influences already men-
tioned that shape young minds, and the result is an overall change of mood
that has awed even close observers.
"The black community radically changed in 1964," said California
Assemblyman Willie Brown, the first black ever to be elected minority whip.
In 1960 it was crazy to picket, and in 1965 Watts comes along.
There are a whole lot of blacks that commenced to justify Watts, and
at that point some kind of tuned out. And then there is all of this
commitment to blackness. And there is black this and black that.
And our separatism, and that is a whole new concept. Any guy who
thinks . . . that he still knows the black community without tuning in
to the new attitude is just off base and he is a disservice to the whole
process of communications.
Almost everyone the Study Team interviewed who has been close to the
development of the BSU and TWLF over the past few years mentioned a
number of incidents happening in and around San Francisco which they
believed powerfully affected the mood of the nonwhite student leaders.
They included
The Black Panthers. The role this gun-carrying self-defense group
played over the years since its 1966 founding is complicated. There has
been more individual mixing among friends in the two groups than formal
organizational contact. Panther Minister of Education George Murray
plays a key role in the BSU his reinstatement as an SFSC instructor is one
of the 10 demands. And the weekly Panther newspaper, billed as the Black
Community News Service, often prints items on various black student
unions. It ran lists of the SFSC demands, and frequently runs this item:
"IMPORTANT" BLACK STUDENT UNIONS
The BLACK STUDENT UNIONS have formed a statewide Union
of BSU's, and are in the process of organizing on a national level. We
call upon ALL BLACK STUDENTS to unite.
If your BLACK STUDENTS UNION hasn't become a member of
this UNION of BLACK STUDENTS UNIONS send a letter or telegram
giving information about your BSU and the conditions that exist
within your area. Become a part of a united movement of BSU's and
stop moving on an individual basis. Together we will become the most
effective organization on this earth; divided we are weak.
Send your letter to: BLACK STUDENTS UNION
NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS
3106SHATTUCKST.
BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA
Relations between the groups have not always been friendly. Although
Chairman Bobby Scale and Minister of Defense Huey P. Newton had been
students at Merritt College in nearby Oakland, the Panthers first looked on
the BSU as "cop-outs," middle-class college kids trying to be white and
unwilling to do what was necessary to survive.
"We have had good relationships with the black student unions at local
high schools," Minister of Information Eldridge Cleaver is quoted as saying
in an interview in the January 20 The Nation.
94 Shut It Down!
Indeed some of them have changed their name to Black Panther
student unions. The situation on the college campuses has been dif-
ferent. Before forming the Black Panther Party, Bobby Scale and
Huey Newton tried to do some organizing at the Soul Students group
at Merritt. They discovered that there are problems with starting a
revolutionary movement among blacks at the college level because al-
most all black college students are from the black bourgeoisie.
The black middle class are the most alienated from their roots; when
the idea of black consciousness began to develop they had the furthest
to go
The black students now in high school find it much easier to relate
to the revolutionary ideas than do the black college students. When
they get to college they will wash away this regressive phenomenon.
Publicly, relations were good by the time of the strike. BSD leaders had
long ago begun using the Panther rhetoric of "pigs" and "dogs" for police,
and Scale spoke at at least one BSU on-campus news conference.
The most visible contribution the Panthers have made to the revolutionary
climate has been the creation of martyrs to the cause, particularly Newton,
Cleaver, and Bobby Hutton.
Newton's murder trial and manslaughter conviction was avidly followed
by blacks of all ages throughout the Bay Area. Here was a young black
activist who drew considerable sympathy for several reasons.
Bits of testimony and happenings at the trial, including testimony from
police that they had lists of all known Panther vehicles and would follow one
when spotted, spelled clear harassment as far as many were concerned, and
they said so.
In addition, a court stenographer left a keyword out of testimony reread
to the jury during deliberations, an error that was not caught until the next
day, and is a factor in Newton's appeal. Then there was Newton's style,
that of a young warrior being persecuted for trying to put an end to
persecution.
"There was a general feeling in many circles that the verdict was a com-
promise," said sociologist St. Clair Drake, "that Huey was innocent, but that
the racist power structure had to stand behind their police. A general feeling
that Huey hadn't been done right by."
People were still talking about the Newton trial when controversy flared
over a course Cleaver was scheduled to teach for credit at the University of
California in Berkeley. Gov. Ronald Reagan and Superintendent of Public
Instruction Dr. Maxwell Rafferty jumped into that one, finally succeeding
in getting Cleaver limited to one appearance with no course credit allowed.
But in the process they convinced many students that the University of
California administration had no power to run its own campus, if it tried to
cross the State's top politician, an idea reinforced at SFSC by the subsequent
suspension of English instructor George Murray.
These contributed to two ideas that later showed up in the student strike.
One, that blacks would not be allowed to have teachers they considered
relevant, was translated into a demand for autonomy. The other, that the
administration had no real power, became visible as a refusal to talk with
anyone below the level of State-college trustees.
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 95
General antipathy toward police was continuously fed. Not only by
police admissions about their relations with the Panthers, but by the kind
of abuse and brutality that continually go on throughout low-income areas
that blacks have complained about for decades. The most notorious of
these was the case of Police Sgt. Michael O'Brien, accused of terrorizing
neighborhood residents with racial slurs and orders to line up against a
wall, hands over heads, before finally killing a young black man. There is
a strong feeling in the black community that O'Brien would never have been
brought to trial had it not been for the roar of community protest that
followed. Posters proclaiming "Wanted, Pig O'Brien, for MURDER," went
up in the Fillmore. His trial was still in process at the time this report was
compiled. 1
Feelings among black activists ran extremely high on these issues, quite
independent of whatever impact they had on the white community.
Throughout this period, of course, the activists were also conscious of things
going on in the larger society the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King,
Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy, the riots that followed the King assassination,
the failure of the Poor People's campaign, President Nixon's wooing of the
South and his emphasis on law and order read crackdown on blacks for
the benefit of whites during his campaign, the behavior of the police in
Chicago, and the war in Vietnam.
"If you doubt that the American flag is a lie," said George Murray in a
late- 1968 speech at Fresno State College, "how in the world is it in 1968
you can have some racist politicians, three, running around the United
States dastardly and criminally saying that the issues confronting all the
people in the United States, the main issue, is the issue of crime in the
streets. . . .
"And when politicians say that they are not talking about Chicanos;
they are not talking about descendants of African slaves; they are not
talking about Chinese . . . they are merely talking about white people, and
only a certain segment of the white population, that is the segment that they
can whip up into a fever of mass hysteria."
Items of particular interest to blacks had a way of traveling across the
country even when whites may not have paid much attention to them.
Late in 1968, Washington, D.C.'s black community was incensed when a
white policeman shot and killed a Negro he said had first refused to stop
jaywalking, and then had turned to fight the officer. While some Washington
blacks were talking about imposing gun restrictions on the police to stop
what they considered clear cases of "overkill," the item found its way into
Murray's Fresno speech in this form:
. . . Like the brother in Washington, D.C., two weeks ago who was
murdered by a white police because he refused to accept a ticket for
jaywalking. . . . The brother was about six blocks [actually seventeen
blocks] from the so-called White House when he was shot down like
a dog in the street. And Lyndon Baines Johnson, that racist cracker,
was in the White House at the same time that the brother was
murdered six blocks from there, talking about, "the issue in America
today is one of crime in the street." So you get people . . . deceiving
the general populace . . . with fabrications of lies, sheets and sheets
96 Shut It Down!
of lies, merely to manipulate everybody ... to the extent that you'll
die for some nonfreedom in Vietnam.
Vietnam is a topic that comes up often in BSU rhetoric. One of the
posters seen frequently in the Fillmore shows an Associated Press photograph
of a Vietnamese woman being questioned by a South Vietnamese officer
while an American soldier, the caption says, holds a gun at her head. The
gun muzzle is pressed tight against her distraught face, and the soldier
identified as American has grabbed a hank of hair with his other hand, and
is pulling it so hard that little ridges of skin have formed around the gun
muzzle, where the flesh is being pressed so tight it cannot move. "Today
the Vietnamese," an overline on the picture reads, "tomorrow the blacks."
The poster is signed "Associated Students of San Francisco State College,
Black Students Union."
"These things build each other," said a black administrator. "Students
particularly tend to blame schools for what society at large hasn't done . . .
they become more impatient. Things are seen as part of a continuing
duplicity."
All of this had a twofold effect on the BSU. It further convinced the
most revolutionary that they had no alternatives left. But more important,
it helped drive the activist students out of the isolated academic lives
college students normally lead, into their communities. And this was
another key difference between the way Americans normally think of
college students, and the way these students saw themselves.
COMMUNITY INVOLVEMENT
We see ourselves being basically servants of the community. That
is to say, we go to a college campus and we learn academic skills and
we see ourselves as returning back to that community to enhance the
progress of that community rather than to exploit or misuse it as the
traditional Third World lackey, Uncle Tom bootlicker students have
done in the past. Also another thing: we see ourselves as educating
our communities to the fact that education is not going to make them
free. You notice that when the racist dog pig comes down into our
community, he's coming with shotguns, AR-15's, kicking and stomp-
ing babies, knocking children out of the way like mad savages, like
Michael O'Brien who killed a black man and got away free . . . What's
happening is that basically they [college authorities] don't want to
heighten those contradictions because they know we will return to
our community and they want us to perpetuate the same old bullshit
lie that if you get an education somehow you will become a human
being and you will become free from police brutality We will re-
turn to our communities and by our struggle we will achieve liberation
for all our people.
The speaker is Ben Stewart, BSU chairman for 1968-69, speaking in a
campus newspaper interview. His language is designed for his goals, and his
point is crucial. The BSU is trying to carve a new role for the black college
student, to return to the black community some of the skills that blacks
on the way up have taken from it in the past. This is a point well understood
by San Francisco's black community spokesmen:
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 97
The BSU as an organization is operating on the principle that the
college for the black student is not an ivory tower but a place where
he gets some kind of preparation to come back to these ghetto com-
munities and try to take what skills he has developed and relate those
to the relevant needs of the people in these communities from which
these kids are coming.
The speaker this time is Hannibal Williams, the only black minister in the
campus ministry association, and a community organizer in the western
addition. "The kids are beautiful and they are to be admired for this. The
traditional Uncle Tom, Sam, shoe-shining type Negro that we have had in
the past has rushed to the university to get himself a white education.
Then he has rushed pellmell from the black community in the same manner
that white people have been fleeing to the suburbs, and we think this is
the most reprehensible of creatures because he denies his own birthright.
It's his brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers from whom he is
running."
Williams is a member of WACO, Western Addition Community Or-
ganization. It's a relatively new community group formed to help co-
ordinate the fight against San Francisco's hotly contested urban-renewal plan
that pushed out low-income blacks to make room for middle-class housing.
The Black Students Union is a dues-paying member of WACO, and
Williams thinks some of its leaders got valuable experience "in organizing
here in the community, working with community people to help us organize
community organizations."
Tactics used by the BSU members then were forerunners of those used
during the student strike. After trying and failing through all the accepted
methods to have the project ground rules changed so that more poor people
would be able to move back in, WACO and several BSU members planted
themselves in front of the earthmoving machines already grading the site.
"We got to the point," he said, "where it was obvious that they were
going to bulldoze over our feelings, over our rights, over our protestations.
They were going to bulldoze over everything that we believe makes us human.
They were going to strip us of our self-respect; and it was at that point
that we decided that humanity and self-respect was more valuable than
life as a sub-human species and we stood in front of the bulldozer and said
'this project is shut down, and it will only be opened over our dead bodies.' '
The result, Williams said, was a total reorganization of part of the
project putting far more black construction workers on the job, and shifting
the percentage of low-income apartments from 20 to 57.2.
"Now mind you," he noted, "that was only achieved after we had ex-
hausted the process of begging the white man and shining his shoes and
kissing his butt and not getting anything for our trouble but political
doubletalk. If there's any one single lesson that we learned from this
process it is that there is only one alternate kind of power and that's the
power of physical confrontation. The white man uses all the other kinds
of power to deprive people of the legitimate goals that they are trying to
achieve and until there is some exhibition of physical force, we get nowhere
in our community because they make monkeys out of us when we have
these verbal exchanges with them. . . ."
98 Shut It Down!
Williams' last comment raises another issue that most radical activists
like to talk about. They say whites have structured society so that non-
whites are always at a disadvantage. They create the field of law, for
example, to guarantee justice, then make administering that field so com-
plicated that only highly educated people can operate in it, then refuse
to give large numbers of minority people the basic grammar and high
school education that would let them go on to understand the profession
that's supposed to get them justice.
Or they confuse uneducated people with political doubletalk. Williams
again, on WACO's work:
We had hundreds of people go with us to plead with the Board of
Supervisors. We went to the mayor's office and practically shined
his shoes while we said, "please . . . listen to us. This is what we
want. . . ."
The answer has inevitably been no, and the way a politician says
no is he tries to say it so confusingly as to make you believe that is
not what he is saying. But inevitably you end up in the frustrating
position of finding out that in fact what he has said when you have
stripped it of all the verbal shibboleths ... he has said "No. Your
condition is what it is. We can't do anything about it. Come back
and see us next year when the legal climate has changed, and maybe
in 1999 we can get some laws passed, but right now I'm sorry. I
appreciate your discomfort. I extend to you all of my sympathies,
and my office is open to you at any time."
WACO is not the only off-campus organization in which BSU members
have been involved. The role of SNCC has already been mentioned, as has
the tutorial program. The BSU set up an information center in the Fillmore.
One central committee member, Terry Collins, ran a black draft-counseling
center in the Fillmore for a couple of years. Several helped on Assembly-
man Brown's campaign. Chinese- and Spanish-speaking members of the
Third World Liberation Front have been involved with a variety of
community groups in their neighborhoods. So that these activists come to
SFSC with much more experience than students are normally given credit
for. And it is not surprising that they would bring to the campus refine-
ments of the tactics they have been trying elsewhere.
Also important to this point is the fact that SFSC, primarily an urban,
part-time college that offers the chance for people to either return to college
for degrees they had no chance to get after high school, or work for degrees
while holding a full-time job, attracts students older than the average.
Administrators say the median age is 25 at their school, a normal course
load is 12 units per semester, instead of the more usual 15. And taking
6 years to finish is so common it is not even remarked about. The BSU and
Third World leaders follow this pattern. James Garrett was 24 when he
transferred in as an undergraduate. Terry Collins is 33, according to school
records. Others range from 24 to 30. Roger Alvarado, first admitted as a
freshman in the fall of 1961 , is a good example of the ways the outside
events described up to now can affect personalities. Now heavily bearded
with shoulder-length hair, Alvarado is a leading member of the Latin American
Student Organization. But when he first arrived, this product of Irish and
South American parents said he did not think in ethnic terms at all. College
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 99
records list one of his very first extracurricular activities as a singing cadet
in Air Force ROTC.
The common experiences of this group set them apart from traditional
college students, but there were no indications that the number who think
along these lines will do anything but increase in the near future. And to
leaders of the black community outside the college, the important thing to
look at is what these students have learned from their experiences that
makes them so different from black college students of their parents'
generation.
What young people see, Goodlett thinks, is a society "wealthy beyond
comparison concentrating on gadgets, material possessions, but being
insensitive to the needs of millions of people who are becoming more
and more articulate as the have-nots."
Perhaps more important, they have watched very carefully to see what
things produce movement in the society.
In San Francisco, my generation for about 17 years we negotiated,
or tried to negotiate, with the hotel management association [to inte-
grate hotel help] . We never could get jobs. . . .
It's been demonstrated to this younger generation that the only
time you can get on the wave length so that the white power structure
pays any attention is when you threaten its god, private property.
So confrontation has become an attention getting mechanism because
not only can you get the man's attention, you can clear a situation
where a conflict can be negotiated.
. . . The TWLF's in this country are saying to the power structure
and to their supporters in the adult segment of their respective
communities that violence in the national struggle for liberation is
probably justifiable, especially when you are dealing with an opponent
who feels that any response to nonviolent petition is a sign of weak-
ness. And if violence is to be our lot then I say that the insensitive
establishment that caused Martin Luther King to die with a broken
heart are the provocateurs of violence and we are in the whirlwind
of a 15-year period of not responding to nonviolent petition.
"I admit I am very excited about black students," said the Reverend A.
Cecil Williams, "because I see some dynamic, superior black students that
excite me very much. And their mood, and the commitment they have
in regards to this. The fact that they are able to articulate, the fact that
they understand . . . they certainly are convinced that they can in fact
change society. Now that's very important. ... We are not ashamed of
ourselves. We have pride going on, we have unity going on. There are
vibrations going on in the black community like we have never seen in
our lives."
Berkeley City Councilman Ron Dellums said he thinks this new mood
is both spreading from places where it is already established, and at the
same time taking hold spontaneously elsewhere in the Nation, "the
chemistry being the insensitivity of a lot of the institutions of higher
learning. The black students now are a different caliber of student, not
only intellectually capable, but politically sensitive, made politically
355-234 O - 69 -
100 Shut It Down!
sensitive by the Carmichaels, the Rap Browns, Huey Newtons, Eldridge
Cleavers, Ron Karengas."
"There is now an all-pervasive feeling of community among black
people," said Hannibal Williams. "Even the bourgeois Negro who has
traditionally in the past believed that some day he will grow up to be a
white man has finally come to understand that he will never grow up
not to be the child of his parents. The spirit that exists in the black
community today is one which the status quo is still unable to under-
stand, basically because it does not want to understand, and does not
want to assimilate or accept a fact which is disagreeable to it and its
status quo condition."
"Schools haven't realized that the students are as serious as they are
now," a black administrator added.
THIRD WORLD LIBERATION FRONT
Look, most of the nonblack Third World people were involved in
what we loosely call the movement. Some for as long as five years,
mostly working with the black community, or with white volunteers
in the black community. About the time that black consciousness
became a pretty solid concept ... a lot of black literature was circu-
lated and dug by everyone concerned. Those of us in the Third World
who were not black, we had to turn around and orient our thinking
to what was happening in our own communities.
Roger Alvarado was describing the process by which he and nonblack
minority group people around him grew to the kind of self-consciousness
that resulted in the Third World Liberation Front (TWLF). Not all took
their cue from activity in the black community as he did, but most talked
of their belief in the need to restructure American society so that it is more
responsive to the needs of their ethnic groups.
Born little more than a year ago, TWLF has had a rapid rise to prominence.
It began in the winter of 1967-68 with discussions between blacks, Mexican-
Americans and Asian Americans, and was formalized during the spring
semester. It was formed as a unified political arm to push for the educational
needs of Third World students. The Black Students Union is a member of
TWLF, so that technically the strike is TWLF led. Actually the other five
student organizations active in TWLF did not join the BSU-called strike until
its second or third day, and the BSU has continued to play a dominating role
in strike strategy.
The BSU, the Latin American Students Organization (LASO), the Mexican-
American Student Confederation (MASC), the Intercollegiate Chinese for
Social Action (ICSA), the Philippine American Collegiate Endeavor (PACE),
and the Asian American Political Alliance (AAPA) are the six groups that now
make up TWLF. A 12-member central committee composed of two delegates
elected from each ethnic group sets policy, and in the past individual groups
have been free to withdraw from TWLF activities they disagree with, or carry
on projects alone.
TWLF staged its first major action in May of 1968, demonstrating for a
week to support a series of demands that included 400 special admissions for
Third World students in the fall of 1968, retention of Dr. Juan Martinez, an
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 101
activist Mexican-American professor, and financial assistance to guarantee
that any students admitted under the special program would not have to
drop out because they needed money.
They won that fight, although the college filled only a little more than
half of the special admissions slots for reasons that are in dispute but center
around a shortage of the necessary funds. That demand was then carried
over into the five that TWLF tacked on to the end of the 10 BSU demands
at the beginning of the November 6 strike.
Each of the six member groups has its own community action and
campus programs in addition to being TWLF members, and Alvarado
describes them all as "program oriented," which he defined in a way that
sheds some light on what goes through the minds of some activist students:
Look, man, there are two kinds of directions that you can move in
as an organizer. There are concrete issues. You can bring out problems
by creating issues around which the people can rally. That's issue
orientation. There's program orientation. You define a problem,
organize, and begin to exhaust various mechanisms set up to deal with
them. After you've done that, put together a composite program that
has some kind of functionalism to it and won't exhaust all your re-
sources or your personality, you move that program as an alternative to
what is creating the problem.
You get results of two different kinds . . . issue orientation is a flash
kind of thing. You've got to bring people together quickly, move them
quickly, clearly explain the issues and everything. People won't stay with
the issue.
The program approach takes a much longer period of time. Time to
become knowledgeable to the people, a lot of work running down the
alternatives, then as you go more alternatives become clear, and there
are more personal positions. The people you're trying to get to accept
the program begin to react to the program, begin to resist it. It threatens
him. It tells him that everything he has been concerned about in terms
of his job has been responsible for what is wrong. Also, when you ex-
haust the program approach, you eventually wind up with the system
has got no place else to go and you've got your issue, you've got your
confrontation.
When he says the system eventually has no place else to go, he means it
is not going to give any ground. "We did a tremendous amount of homework"
on a proposal for minorities studies, he said, "laid out sketches, curriculum,
instruction, all laid out to meet special needs of the groups involved. Then we
began going around to different offices trying to institute some of these courses
within the curriculum. What we got was incredible. Even people who thought
that the course was a good idea would say, 'Well, you should have had this in
six months ago because that's when a decision was made.' You get a real cross-
fire of information. You go to someone's office, they tell you to go elsewhere.
You go there, this cat explains how this function is really a little different from
what that cat said, so he can only do this much for you, you got to go some-
where else . . . it's the way the institution is laid out, man. Anyone can do
whatever he wants to as long as he doesn't make any changes in the institution.
102 Shut It Down!
I don't think it's a question of individuals or anything, just the basic structure
of this institution. It's not structured to meet the needs of the people."
The best way to find out why these students decided they needed a
political arm to push their causes is just to listen to them talk. First, another
member of LASO:
I spoke Spanish until I was five years old. When I went to kinder-
garten I wasn't allowed to speak Spanish, I had to speak English, and so
I was forced to forget Spanish. This is what I call a cultural depression
which is systematic and final.
Throughout school I was never once introduced to a piece of
Latin-American writing. I was never once shown a piece of art from
either the Indian culture or from the real Spanish Colonial period
in regards to art from the aspect of a Latin American person . . . [teach-
ers would say] here we have the missions; here is an example of the
Spanish Colonial art. In no way have we gone into how that art and
architecture reflected the society of the Spaniards or the condition
of the Indian and how their labor went into the building of the
missions. . . .
See, the educational system is no accident . . . it's not simply a
matter of not including what our culture is about, what our history
is about, what our economics are about, what our politics are about.
It's a process of mis-education. It has a purpose .... One is to teach
us not how to change our community, or even live in it, but how to
escape it by denying that we are a part of it. ...
The condition of black people, brown people, yellow people, and
red people is essentially that we are all oppressed systematically as
individuals and as a people by the society . . . people have been told
that black people have certain needs which aren't being met. They
aren't being told that there are more Mexican-Americans in penal
institutions than in institutions of higher education. They are not
being told that the average number of years of formal education of
a Chinese American is 1 .7 in this city.
This particular student taught a creative writing class in the experimental
college, concentrating on approaches he did not feel similar classes at SFSC
provided.
First of all, what I did in class was have people bring in examples
of literature by authors of their own ethnic origin. . . . What they
would have to do was to go out and look for it. Black people could
look to LeRoi Jones, Eldridge Cleaver; Latin- American and Mexican-
American people had to dig around a little bit; Jorge Gonzales,
Joaquin. The Filipino people had to really dig in and they brought
in some beautiful things. There was one by a Philippine writer in
1932. He was in the South, and he walked into a bar, and they said
you have to get out, and he asked why. He was told that he was
black, and he said, "no, I'm not, I'm a Filipino." And they answered
"Oh, that's all right then."
The list goes on and on in the same vein. A 30-year-old Chinese student
who tried forgetting about his people's problems for a while but was pulled
back by a job with a poverty agency said:
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 103
The Chinese they teach here is Mandarin Chinese, spoken by 90
percent of the people in Red China and Nationalist China. But the
province where people migrate to here from is Canton. They speak
Cantonese. Ninety-seven percent of all Chinese persons in the
United States who speak Chinese speak Cantonese. The written
language is the same, but the dialects are different. We need
Cantonese so we have a tool to go back to our communities to
help our people.
And from another Latin American, born in Argentina, who came to this
country 4 years ago at the age of 23 :
We have informal links . . . like Juvenile Hall. I went there as a
translator just for one kid, and ended up as a translator for five kids.
If I wasn't there they would have gone through everything without
understanding, without anyone. All our people end up in the Army
in Vietnam because they don't know they have a right to go to
school. The whole channeling of ghetto kids to vocational schools,
training them for jobs that will be obsolete in 10 years. We have
people with skills working as janitors because they were unable to
close the language gap.
American schools have not traditionally considered it their business to try
to solve community problems like these. TWLF is saying they ought to. Asked
his idea of the ideal educational system, a Latin American replied:
Let me take that in the perspective of a Latin American. It would
have in it the realities of how they came to exist in this society. That is
it would include in it the realities of the condition of our people. . . .
For example, if we had a course in the economics of the Mission
District, if we wanted to talk about the 42-year-old, we would get a
42-year-old Puerto Rican or Mexican to teach that, because he knows it.
He lives it. It is his life. We are not talking about getting someone who
studied a book which is an abstract of that book, so you are twice
removed from the reality.
What we are talking about in essence is really revolutionizing the whole
concept of education. By that I mean that we are talking about dealing
with reality, by living reality, by being in contact with reality, rather
than by studying it.
Question What kind of people would you like to be turning out 10
years from now?
Answer "First of all, people who are aware of the context from
which they come. They are not stripped of their culture but are
enriched.
"Second, people who will go into the various professional realms of
society keeping in mind and addressing themselves to their people so
that if a person is a lawyer, and say his interest is corporate law, he
doesn't work for General Motors but works for his own people, say in
setting up a cooperative. And if we had a medical man, he doesn't
relate to, say, a Montgomery Street office but addresses himself to
need in the Mission District."
Question You are talking about a sense of community responsi-
bility.
104 Shut It Down!
Answer-"Right."
"What we are trying to do," said ICSA Chairman, Mason Wong,
"is expose the contradictions of this society to our communities . . .
separate fact from fiction. The fiction is that the Chinese have never
suffered as much as, say, the black or brown communities in this
country . . . rather, the Chinese community has the same basic prob-
lems as all other nonwhite communities. The only thing different
that it has is some neon lights and a few tourist restaurants, which is
all that white people want to know about our community. Yet these
restaurants are staffed by illiterate Chinese who work 14 hours a day
6 days a week for starvation wages. The only way to survive in our
community is to exploit each other, hence the myth of the successful
Chinese businessman. This exploitation is perpetuated at the expense
of Chinese immigrants who can only find work in the sweat shops,
laundries and restaurants of Chinatown. . . .
WHITE SUPPORT GROUPS
College administrators, sympathetic black community spokesmen, and the
Third World student leaders all agree that whites, moderate and radical, have
played a large role in visibly supporting the strike and its picket lines, but
a negligible one in terms of planning strategy.
There are times when the picket line at the main college entrance is en-
tirely white, and during the days of police-student clashes on the commons
in the fall and winter, far more whites than blacks or other minorities could
be seen throwing rocks, and shouting insults at police.
Strategy decisions, however, are made by the TWLF Central Committee,
which includes no whites. The two most radical white groups on campus,
Students for a Democratic Society and the Progressive Labor Party, have had
considerable disagreement with minority students in the past over strategy.
The BSU did not support an SDS-TWLF sit-in in the administration building
in the spring of 1967. "We thought it was irrelevant," said Garrett, "and we
didn't think the white students should lead anything." BSU leaders often
criticize the tactics of SDS-led demonstrations at other colleges.
"You should not underestimate what you're fighting for," Stokely
Carmichael told a Third World meeting on the campus in November.
. . . Because you're now beginning to challenge real attitudes. Who
has the right to hire and to fire. Not even the white student movement
in the height of its movement at Columbia was able to do this. Be-
cause they held the buildings for a few days, then they gave up, but
they had no clear victories . . .
You read about Mark Rudd [SDS leader at Columbia] . Yeah, he's
sho 'nuff bad. But he ain't got nothing to show for his badness. And
I don't think we can afford that, because we're not in the same posi-
tion as the white students. They have the luxury of being militant or
radical or revolutionary. For us, it is a necessity. We have no other
out.
Echoes of this philosophy crop up time and time again in BSU statements,
including warnings that seizing college buildings is pointless. Carmichael
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 105
grasped another element of BSU strategy when he told his audience, "When
you fight you depend only upon yourselves, nobody else. . . . You look to
make allies among those people who suffer like you do. That's black people,
and then that's people of color outside this circle. But you look upon
yourself."
The BSU also views SDS as having relatively fixed ideas about class
struggles and student power that have little to do with what they see as the
key issue, racism. Also, the theory goes, SDS can afford to put on splashy
demonstrations over relatively minor issues, like cafeteria food, because
individual members can disappear back into white society anytime they want
to, perhaps to become corporation lawyers, while blacks are always marked
and lashed out against because of their color.
SDS went through quite an internal debate before officially deciding to
take a secondary strategic role. They may have had no choice, for the BSU
had clearly let it be known anyone was welcome to participate in the strike
as long as they did not try to confuse the issues or horn in on the leadership.
A pamphlet titled "On Strike, Shut it Down" put out by white supporters
described the SDS position this way:
SDS put forth the position that the main issues of the strike were
racism and the class nature of the university. Others felt that we were
fighting a battle for campus autonomy and that racism was too
amorphous for the white student body to relate to it. Still others felt
that "white demands" [i.e., demands for student power] had to be
attached in order to win support for the strike. These ideas were
discussed in the mass meetings and it was maintained that racism
was not a vague issue, but one that could be seen as a tool of the
ruling class that affects all oppressed people including white
students.
The SDS-PLP role in tactics is something else. Contrary to popular
opinion, TWLF does not appear to have maintained any sort of control
over people who decide they want to smash windows or throw things
at police. The overwhelming majority of students arrested in the various
confrontations have been white, and during melees in the central campus
far more whites than Third World students are usually visible. "The word
is," said one student, "that if you want to throw rocks or plant bombs,
that's OK, as long as you don't try to change the issues or make new
demands."
There was evidence of a shifting spectrum of support among un-
organized whites, with many of those interviewed indicating that either
they supported some of the demands, although they continued to go to
classes, or that they occasionally helped out on a picket line.
Issues also tended to shift somewhat in the midst of confrontations,
with considerable numbers of moderate whites apparently willing to risk
arrest to watch, or object to, police in action on the campus at the same
time they were attending class and not observing the picket lines.
It was obvious to observers of the large confrontations, also, that
many, if not a majority, of the whites gathered during confrontations in
the commons would consider themselves curious onlookers, despite
Acting President Hayakawa's warning that no such animal exists.
106 Shut It Down!
FRUSTRATIONS ON THE RISE
By all accounts, 1967 was an unfortunate year at San Francisco State.
Both students and faculty got caught up in what former student body presi-
dent Jim Nixon called "an incredibly frustrating eight months."
White radicals were at loose ends because their drives to get massive con-
frontations with the "oppressive class structure," meaning the administration,
just didn't seem to grow into a sustained student movement. White liberals
were upset because in the spring they lost control of the student government
and its $400,000 budget to a conservative group of candidates, but the con-
servatives found they could not push their programs through because the head
of their ticket, Associated Students president Phil Garlington, proved unex-
pectedly liberal, especially with his veto power. The result was a series of
knockdown, dragged-out arguments over the funding of student programs
that stalled programs and frayed the tempers of several groups including the
BSU, while Third World students were trying to figure out what they could
put together to attack the issues bothering them. President John Summerskill
was under fire from the trustees for not cracking down hard enough on unruly
black and white activists, while the activists were getting more and more un-
ruly. Summerskill made a lot of promises, they explained, but just did not
seem to be able to get things done.
From this boiling caldron of frustration eventually emerged the TWLF
strike, with all of its violence. It is clear that for all of the off-campus issues
that angered minority students, the frustrations they encountered on campus
gave them ample opportunity to practice tactics that would burst into vio-
lence in the fall of 1968. And the tactics seem to have been developed first in
reaction to obstacles at the student level, then leveled against the administra-
tion, and finally at the college as a whole.
These tactics took two primary forms: confrontation with a kind of verbal
violence whites were not used to, including shouts, obscenities, derogatory
name calling, accusations of racism, and implied threats; and implied physical
violence packing meetings.
A good deal of this was carefully planned both for its impact on the whites
being confronted, and on potential black leaders the BSU was trying to radi-
calize. It is part of the technique of heightening the contradictions that Car-
michael talked about, and the verbal part is far more common in black ghettos
than white America might suppose. Some of the small black nationalist
groups in Harlem have been using similar rhetoric for years in an attempt to
win converts. It regularly appears in the Chicago-based Black Muslim news-
paper Muhammad Speaks. Heavyweight Champion Muhammad Ali used bits
of it in the bantering that so irritated some of the white sportswriters covering
him. Carmichael and Rap Brown use it when they continually insult whites,
as do the Panthers with their animal terminology for police and government
officials.
The verbal use can have several effects. First, it shows other blacks that
they can get away with a broader range of behavior than they thought. Sec-
ond, it confuses the white opponent, often making it easier to end his opposi-
tion. Or it can provoke him into such strong reprisals that his behavior then
proves to other blacks that the terminology was none too strong in the first
place, he is a pig or a dog, or something unprintable. There are also more
subtle uses, as explained by a member of TWLF:
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 107
Look, we have almost like different ways of thinking. It's a different
world . . . it's coming to that. I talked last week with SMART [Student
Majority Against Revolutionary Tactics] , with the Committee for an
Academic Environment, down at the TV station. I also talked with
some teachers opposed to the strike. One of the things that became
really clear was whole definitions of words. We didn't mean the same
things. We would use political activity, say. We meant something dif-
ferent from them. We use it having much more direct relation to our
lives, like the strike is political activity. For them, it's, like, voting.
One of the functions of rhetoric is that it serves to develop a com-
monality of thinking, so there's not as much individual pressure. The
rhetoric is one that serves to bind the people together in their thoughts.
The problem with it is it's not dialogue, it doesn't serve to communi-
cate. Like, language works in a context, and we don't have that context
down yet, not just in terms of how we're gonna move, but what we're
gonna move for.
From a black public official comes this analysis of the more sophisticated
tactics carried out in 1968 against the college administration just after Robert
Smith accepted the presidency:
Smith came in ice cold. And it was a learning process for Smith, in-
cidentally. The black students set up a series of meetings with Smith to
educate Smith. This was July, August, September. Fabulous meetings.
You can't believe the things that were said in those meetings. They'd
open the meetings and they had everybody strategically placed. They
wouldn't let the administrators sit with each other. They had a black
cat between them. They were really just diabolic in their concept.
They would open the meeting, and they would always play Smith
off against Garrity, because it was their view that Smith was a figure-
head and that Garrity really represented the trustees. So they would
ask Smith for his opinion on a proposal and then they would say "Dr.
Smith, we ... ," they wouldn't call him Dr. Smith, incidentally. It was
part of the therapy that they refer to him as dog Smith. "Dog Smith,
you don't really have any power. That other dog named Garrity is the
one who really has the power. We would like to be with you, dog
Smith, but you just don't have the power." It was really a therapy
session.
And then about halfway through the session they would tear up
some paper and put it in an ashtray and shove it down the table and say
you people don't understand anything except fire. Really, really quite
rank.
Smith developed the same degree of tolerance that Summerskill had.
He knew that was all play acting. He had the sophistication to not be-
come offended by that kind of stuff, and as a result the other adminis-
trators out there were simply following his leadership. They would
have liked to have told them to go to hell and get up and walk out, but
Smith was smart enough to know that the hatred was really a surface
hatred not a deep disrespect. Otherwise if it was a deep hatred and a
desire to destroy they wouldn't have been in there talking about work-
ing within the system.
108 Shut It Down!
He was a smart one who understood the overriding commitment, and
as a result he was able to deal with that kind of nonsense without being
offended. These were the new kind of tactics. They used these same
kind of tactics, incidentally, with Bob Kennedy. I had a meeting with
about 300 militants with Bob Kennedy. They used the same tactics.
This is just shock, to scare the hell out of the white folks. After that's
all over, of course, they get around to discussing things ....
Asked about this tactic, Garrett said this is intended to show disrespect.
"All you're doing is telling him you know, you're no big thing. Black folks
have a different system of language. So they use it. They don't imply it, they
use it. Like some people who can call you mister and mean dog, when they
say dog, they mean dog."
Physical violence or threats of it have clearly understood uses. But as men-
tioned earlier, the BSU view is that Americans become concerned about this
kind of violence only when it goes against their interests. They use it to per-
petuate their goals, the argument runs, and therefore they have no cause to
complain when someone else adopts the tactic.
A student legislator described what often happened:
We'd have meetings and suddenly there'd be 20-25 black kids there
saying how they felt about things. It began over money, then went to a
general discussion of the death of white culture and innuendo but no
direct threats .... It was mostly a massing of psychological force.
They were saying, "we know what we want and we have the power to
destroy something if we don't get what we want."
We shouted back, and the blacks took it incredibly well, better than
if we'd caved in. They came in once to a budget hearing with a demand
for what was in effect the entire remainder of the Experimental College
budget. They showed a few shoddy programs, we fought, and they
went back and produced a better program. In the end they took the
second smallest budget there.
Interestingly, some of the liberal white activists in the legislature thought
they had figured out a way to deal with the black tactics.
"It was the first time that many had seen guys making demands with veiled
threats," said one. "But they would really respect you if you shouted back,
if you had some self interest and knew what you wanted."
In the process of moving farther and farther away from the traditional ap-
proach to a college education, the BSU issued a number of statements of pur-
pose. One, written about late 1966 or early 1967, set down the principles
that underlie many of the 15 nonnegotiable demands. It said in part:
The Black Students Union recognizes the struggles for freedom of
nonwhite peoples around the world as a positive part of our educational
processes. We are a Third World organization. We adhere to the strug-
gles in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, ideologically, spiritually, and
culturally.
We, the Black Students Union of San Francisco State College, seek
simply to function as human beings, to control our own destinies. Ini-
tially, following the myth of the American Dream, we worked too hard
to attend predominantly white colleges, but we have learned through
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 109
direct analysis that it is impossible for black people to function as hu-
man beings in a racist society in which black is synonymous with en-
emy, no matter what the educational attainment. So we have decided
to fuse ourselves with the masses of black people to create, through
struggle, a new humanity, a new humanism, a black humanism and
within that context collectively control our own destinies.
THE INCIDENTS PILE UP
One of the most important influences on San Francisco State student ac-
tivists was the ability to conceive and run their own programs. They devel-
oped both experience in dealing with college administrators, and a sense of
knowing better than anyone else what was best for their program. That sense
was heightened in BSU members by the feeling that whites, by definition, did
not understand what it meant to be black well enough to know what was
good for blacks.
Dean Joseph White, one of the black administrators working closely with
the BSU, noted:
The thing I think was unique about San Francisco State is that all
the people in decisive roles up till about a year ago February were stu-
dents. Until February there were no black administrators. Until Feb-
ruary there were only three or four black professors .... The students
had to run from committee to committee. They have this very innova-
tive thing, or what they consider is an innovative proposal, and no one
to carry the ball for them. There was no one on the faculty who could
cut through the tape. So you have some students like Bennie Stewart
who since they were sophomores have been going to committee after
committee trying to articulate why black studies only to wind up be-
fore the one they started with. It was frustrating, and gives you an idea
of how the system runs you around.
This infighting first became visible in the area of student affairs, with the
legislature particularly, and with campus publications that attacked the BSU.
There were complicating factors, notably infighting between the liberal
and conservative whites that tied up funding for student programs. An article
in the February 1968 issue of the Daily Gater wrapped up the events of the
previous year this way:
Held by a two to one margin by conservatives . . . the legislature re-
fused to pass Garlington's liberal-radical programs. The president, using
his only direct power, vetoed the legislative acts. Neither side could win
decisive victories on the issues: the budget allocations, the Black Stu-
dents Union programs, the experimental college, open process, the
Gater.
The same issue notes in a different story what had happened as a result to
one program the BSU had taken over and shaped in its own image, the much-
praised tutorial program. The story read:
The tutorial program, one of the student projects that put SF State
on the educational map, is in trouble.
110 Shut It Down!
Thomas Williams, program coordinator [and a member of the BSU
central committee] , said the program is badly in need of money and
only has enough to eke out an existence through the month of March.
The Shape-Up AS legislature allocated $6,000 to the program in Sep-
tember, a 54-percent cut from the previous year and $18,000 short of
the program's initial budget request ....
There was evidence much earlier that the BSU had gotten tired of fighting
that kind of problem. Garrity described it this way:
We started to have complaints. The budget was up before the Asso-
ciated Students . . . black people came into the room, and this was the
first time that this had occurred, to our knowledge, in any college or
university, and they surrounded every person in the room. One black
man was standing behind each white man. He didn't say anything they
just stood there. And they were frightened out of their Goddam minds.
And for the first time intimidation became a part of the rhetoric on
campus. This was early fall 1966 . . . and the thing they came there for
was the budget of the tutorial program. . . .
But from that tutoring thing, a few days or a few weeks later it was
something else. In other words, they started to gain a visibility. Just
repeatedly day after day you started to hear vibrations about the fact
that these cats were not going through in the ordinary demeanor of the
college. They were threatening violence, they were intimidating people.
It was a form of violence at that time.
Garrity then described the administration's reaction:
We just didn't really believe that this presaged anything that would
come beyond . . . and other people were saying the same thing. My
point was institutionally we tried to minimize reaction to it. ... We
were guided by conventional wisdom. The conventional wisdom was
that the way to truth, beauty and justice was the integrationist way-
faculty member after faculty member said "What the hell's this?" It's a
passing phase.
I remember the black secretary that I had who was interested. I was
talking about nationalism it's evil. She was pushing the point to me
that nationalism is valuable. It gives a sense of belonging, dignity. I was
saying, "No, it's evil." And she was putting it to me in a very concrete
way, "that's my salvation because I don't feel a part of you, whitey, I
feel a part of black folks. And that's the way I've got to go." And it
challenged almost every one of our liberal views about what we are up
to
"What we had happen were a whole sequence of events," Garrity contin-
ued. "A name which is very big today, Jack Alexis, went into a meeting and
took a great big table, and turned it over, and not only turned it over, he
turned it over in a way that he threw it at the audience. That was violence. It
was violent as hell. We had, we must have had, a dozen events during the fall.
Jimmy Garrett and company were coming out with expressive forms of be-
havior which were shocking us, which people were complaining . . . about."
The tactics showed no signs of slackening off, however, and in the Decem-
ber 5, 1966, issue of the Gater, BSU member Judie Hart took half a page to
note:
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 111
The Associated Students are playing games with the Black Student
Union. They have assumed that not meeting BSU's budget request is as
easy as shooting a black boy in the back "accidentally." We are tired of
gaming and we don't intend to get shot in the back.
The bitter barrage went on to say a BSU budget request of $9,050 had
been consistently bounced back and forth between the legislature and the
finance committee while much larger sums for less worthy causes were ap-
proved. It concluded: ". . . In other words, BSU, go to hell. Racism ain't
even latent no more. . . ."
Another major blowup came May 1 1 , 1967. A meeting of the legislature,
called to reach some compromise over the funding of a BSU project, was ad-
journed after it dissolved into a shouting match and a near brawl. The issue
was $2,838 asked by the BSU to finish filming plays by black writer LeRoi
Jones, a visiting professor that semester, so they could be shown to on- and
off-campus audiences.
Earlier, $1 ,584 had been voted for the project, and during the stormy
meeting finance committee members complained the legislature was short of
funds and the BSU should trim its request, while Garrett argued that there
was no more room to trim, the proposal should be granted or cut in its en-
tirety.
Three days later the money was granted in a meeting that illustrated both
the tense mood of the times, and the BSU attitudes on the matter.
"After two hours of explanations and arguments the legislature voted 7-6
to give Jones $2,838," the Daily Gater reported at the time. ". . . However
Pat Kimbley, speaker of the legislature . . . voted against the resolution, dead-
locking the vote. . . ."
Three proxy votes were immediately opened. "Two . . . favored giving
Jones all the money he asked for. . . . The third . . . favored giving Jones a re-
duced subsidy. Because he felt the wording of the proxy votes was unclear,
Kimbley initially decided not to accept them.
But as members of the BSU rose from their seats in anger . . . Kim-
bley conceded and accepted the votes. . . .
Jimmy Garrett, head of the BSU, opened the meeting by saying that
the legislature "can't tolerate black people doing things for themselves,
because you can't control them."
Jones then took over . . . "we feel that the definition of our lives is
not served by Shakespeare and Moliere, we want to recreate ourselves as
black people and refine our experiences through the plays and films to
the communities at large."
Jones then said that they wanted to use the college resources because
the black communities don't have them.
"If we were doing Shakespeare or Moliere, there wouldn't be any of
this trouble. The fact that the material we are using comes from the
lives of black people is the point of contention."
Growing anger by BSU leaders who felt they were being harassed was not
eased when, 5 days later on May 19, 10 elected student officers made a for-
mal complaint to the Board of Trustees accusing the BSU of racism and mis-
handling funds. Their accusations included two signed statements describing
112 Shut It Down!
threats allegedly made after the legislative meetings, and some excerpts from
Jones' writings.
After 4 days of on-campus investigation, a study team put together by the
chancellor's office concluded that the "vast majority" of charges exceeded
the scope of the supporting evidence, but warned that communication prob-
lems existed between students of opposing political factions.
Evidence, according to the Study Team's report, was at that time sketchy.
"During the student interview," it said, "one student reported that, following
one meeting of the legislature, two girls were walking across campus behind
her and were talking how 'whitey' had better vote right or she'll 'get it.'" But
a dispute developed over whether the two girls were students at the college.
The report continued:
Although a number of the students interviewed indicated that mem-
bers of the BSU had used such tactics as packing meetings, mumbling,
or finger tapping during meetings, there was no real agreement among
these students as to the extent of such tactics or their effectiveness. It
was also pointed out by several students who had made presentations to
the panel that sharp pressure tactics had been used to some degree by
members of both sides of opposing political factions. One student told
the panel that remarks with racial bias overtones had been made by stu-
dents representing both factions when the BSU budget proposal was be-
ing discussed in the Associated Student Legislature.
Garrett, who had turned the BSU chairmanship over to Ben Stewart by the
time the report came out, complained that the summer-long battle had stalled
the tutorial program, and cost the BSU a $15,000 outside grant.
With animosity growing as the school year went on, it took no great vision-
ary to predict even more trouble ahead.
Crucial in the swirl of controversy that surrounded the BSU at the time
was the beating of the editor of the Daily Gater in his office, November 6,
1967.
The beating came after a long series of Gater articles critical of and making
satirical remarks about the BSU. Some poked fun at the leaders, while others
stopped just short of accusing the BSU of misappropriating funds. And the
charges would be picked up and repeated in the legislature during the wild
battles for money.
"The word was that Garrett had control of all the community organiza-
tions, the work study program, Community Involvement Program, and was
using those to further his own end," recalled a former student who was active
in the BSU at that time.
"Hearings and investigations took up a lot of time and made a lot of peo-
ple mad . . . the paper carried on a position counter to the facts of the matter.
They became a focal point for anti-BSU feeling."
Several stories circulated at the time on what might have been the actual
trigger for the visit to the Gater office by more than a dozen blacks. Some
said it was related to the just-ended homecoming queen election in which the
BSU-sponsored candidate lost by 10 votes amid charges, later proven, that 40
votes had disappeared. The election was later invalidated by the legislature.
Others blamed an article on the front page of the November 6 Gater al-
leged to contain racial slurs. The article, detailing a visit by topless dancer
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 113
Carol Doda to the campus, quotes a pair of Negro singers as announcing,
among other things, "It's a Negro holiday. Today's the day the new Cadillacs
come out and we're celebrating."
The Gater itself speculated later that an article written by Editor Jim
Vaszko when he was sports editor the previous semester may have created
much of the hostility. It was a satirical spoof of the then heavyweight cham-
pion Muhammad Ali.
Garrett recollected events this way:
We were going to see three people that day. We were going to see
the editor of the Gater, the chairman of the school of education, and
the dean of students. All on the same question, Racism. . . . This was
about some different kinds of racist things we thought they were pull-
ing, so we went to talk to them . . . about Muhammad Ali and a series
of things. . . .
So one of the things we brought with us was a folder full of the dif-
ferent articles that we had documented and xeroxed, and we had given
copies to the students so that everybody could see it, so that they un-
derstood why were we going to go and talk to them. One reason why
there were so many people in the Gater office was because we were try-
ing to build leaders, and the way you build leaders is to give them in-
formation.
Question How many did go?
Answer Fifteen. So we took them upstairs with us to go ... and we
went up there, and then the white boy [Editor Jim Vaszko] said some
things, and he got hit in the mouth. He didn't get hurt, which is what
he should have done. But he could have got hurt. . . .
... We didn't expect to fight. Nobody went there to fight. The
fight was spontaneous. That was the one thing that was spontaneous.
The going up there was politically planned to train people on how to
move on people, because we'd take people to the president's office, to
the dean of students' office so they could sit and listen to white folks
discuss their lives, discuss black folks' lives, and they could learn from
that.
Question Were you dismayed? What was your reaction when it
broke up in a fight?
Answer My reaction was that some things are inevitable, you know,
and that was one of the things. ... We had reached a point where we
take a move from rhetoric to the element of action, and there was no
return. We already had an atmosphere of violence. But the violence
was psychological. . . .
. . . The question of violence is a dual question, because violence
has been committed against us ever since we had been on campus. You
know. And the turnabout is that violence just expresses itself differ-
ently, because when we came back in a violent way it ... was a response
to a certain kind of violence. We just didn't arbitrarily jump on white
folks, because if we had wanted to do it, we could have done that every
day of the week. . . .
The next morning the Gater appeared with six photographs of the fight,
taken by a staff photographer who had gone almost unnoticed in the general
brawl. An accompanying story announced:
114 Shut It Down!
Gater editor Jim Vaszko was beaten yesterday morning in a wild,
fist-swinging melee triggered by about 15 Negro students.
The attack occurred at 10:25 after the Negroes deployed themselves
throughout the Gater office and asked to see Vaszko. A spokesman for
the group was told by Gater reporter John Davidson that Vaszko was
on the phone.
The unidentified Negro entered Vaszko's office followed by four
members of his group. They closed the door behind them.
According to Vaszko, one of the group said to him, "I want to talk
to you man."
Vaszko replied, "I'm on the phone, I'll be with you in a second."
"One of the Negroes ripped the phone from my hands and began
beating me," Vaszko said.
After receiving several blows, Vaszko fell to the floor and was kicked
repeatedly.
The story said other staff members who heard the commotion and tried to
come to Vaszko's aid were stopped by other blacks, and the result was a free-
swinging brawl through the newsroom, a story borne out by the photographs
of fights going on all around the room. One of the persons clearly visible in
one of the pictures was tutorial director George Murray, later to become the
focus of a suspension from his teaching job that many believe triggered the
November 6 strike 1 year later.
Exactly 1 month later, on December 6, a group of black high school stu-
dents brought on campus for a BSU program ran wild for a brief period,
smashing some things in the bookstore. A white faculty member sympathetic
to the BSU said he remembers hearing Garrett lecture the youngsters on vio-
lence, telling them, "This doesn't lead to anything, we're trying to change the
institution, not break windows."
Antagonism continued to grow, particularly in the aftermath of the Gater
beating. The BSU held a November 16 news conference, seen at the time as
an attempt to repair its image, at which a statement was issued saying:
"We offer a positive program of Blackness. Our programs are work pro-
grams. Our direction is revolutionary. Our method is organization. Our goal
is Black Power. Our essence is black Humanism."
"You newsmen don't really want to talk about the Gater office," said on-
campus coordinator Jerry Varnado to persistent questioning. "You want to
talk about violence. All right, let's talk about Vietnam." And he started
down a list of statistics designed to show that a disproportionate number of
nonwhites are killed there.
In December, the BSU issued a statement which read in part:
Enclosed is a copy of a letter written by John Summerskill, president
of San Francisco State College, to Chancellor Glenn S. Dumke regarding
the fight in the Gater office November 6, 1967. It was sent to every
member of the nearly 2,000 SFSC faculty and administration. Sum-
merskill calls this a preliminary report based on "factual data and thor-
ough investigation." No black students on the San Francisco State Col-
lege campus including the officers of the Black Students Union have
been formally contacted for interview or investigation by the president
or any of his representatives. At the publication of this letter no hear-
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 115
ings had taken place regarding the Gater incident ... it should be noted
that on the board of appeals and review there were nine (9) whites and
one (1) black.
The BSU maintains that this letter is a racist document admittedly
one-sided (white sided) by the president himself.
In particular note that such references in the letter that "Negroes
were intruders" as if black students have no right to be in certain class-
rooms on the campus. Read the letter carefully. You can see that the
black students have already been convicted by Summerskill before the
hearing or the trial began. . . . There is no difference in the final anal-
ysis between Huey Newton, Black Students, LeRoi Jones, Black Broth-
ers. We're all convicted before trial in this racist school, the racist state
or this racist country. Hopefully black people are learning this fact.
Hopefully black people are beginning to see that their only hope is to
destroy this racist nation and create one for ourselves. Our lives depend
on it.
Jerry Varnado, On-Campus Coordinator
Jimmy Garrett, Off-Campus Coordinator
MOVING ON BLACK STUDIES
Documents on file with the Council of Academic Deans indicate the first
suggestion for a black studies department within the regular academic frame-
work came in December 1966 at a meeting of the academic senate's instruc-
tional policy committee. It was suggested by the Black Students Union,
whose leaders had already been struggling for about a year with increasing the
student commitment to blackness.
The suggestion was made at the end of the same semester that had seen the
BSU's tactics of intimidation flower into common use. But those tactics
weren't even hinted at in the early discussions on a black studies department,
perhaps because only two or three BSU leaders were involved in those early
discussions. Minutes from the various meetings, however, indicate that only a
few faculty and administration members appeared to have caught the sense of
urgency that marked battles in the AS legislature. And perhaps because of
this, it took a year for any substantive progress toward the department the
BSU wanted. During that year, the polite demeanor of the BSU on this issue
slipped away.
"The first confrontation in today's terms was a nice, quiet little session,"
said Garrity, who hosted it at his home. "LeRoi Jones was visiting professor,
and he sat in there and never opened his mouth. Nice and quiet, and he said
you know, we've got to do something. Certainly, we're all for it. And we
were all happy and working together, and we had committees, and we were
theoretically solving the problem."
Administrators were even ahead of the BSU in some ways. They insisted
from the beginning it would have to be a program including Orientals,
Mexican- Americans, and other minorities, not just blacks.
President John Summerskill had called a series of open meetings in 1966
to explore the general problems of black students, including the drop in the
percentage of black students over the past several years, and the problems of
courses felt to be irrelevant. Up to that time, most of the formal work done
116 Shut It Down!
by the BSU on courses designed especially for blacks had been in the experi-
mental college's Black Arts and Culture series, and in their high school tutor-
ing program.
"When the results of the experimental college began to show itself, it be-
came clear that more people ought to be involved in them," said a former
student who was a BSU leader at that time. "We had dialogue on the changes
that would give black students a more positive relationship to education. . . .
"We began to negotiate with the school in terms of getting credit for them
the reception was always poor. So what it involves is a re-education of the
administration, and that is a long, slow process. It conjures up all sorts of
fears of loss of power, and that sort of thing. The argument is always 'how
badly do you want it? We will give you just as much as we feel we have to and
no more.' This went on from then to now."
In March 1967, 3 months after the formal suggestion was first made, the
IPC unanimously voted to start a program of black studies, and in April
Garrity hosted his "nice, quiet little session" for an informal discussion with a
select group of students, faculty, and leaders of the black community. In-
cluded from the BSU were Garrett and Stewart.
Six weeks later, at the May 31 meeting of the Council of Academic Deans
(CAD), Garrity reported on the evening of informal discussion. He said no
conclusions had been reached, and no determination had been made of what
to do next, but there had been a full discussion. Garrett, he said, had asked
for-
All academic program at San Francisco State College wherein the Negro
student could get something to help him find his place in American so-
ciety, his self-identity. He asked that a department be established with
a major and a budget for staff and that the control of that program be
given to the Negro students.
The wording "to help him find his place in American society" points up
just how fast the BSU position was changing. A year later they would issue
the letter complaining about Summerskill's handling of the Gater incident in-
vestigation, and urging blacks to "destroy this racist Nation and create one for
ourselves,"
According to CAD minutes, some homework had been done between the
gathering at Garrity's home and the May 31 "CAD meeting."
Some of the ideas had been refined, and the academic senate's executive
committee had been notified of what had taken place. The deans discussed
the matter at length that day, in ways which appeared reasonable at the time,
but which were later pointed out by black students and faculty as examples
of deliberate stalling where black needs are concerned. The points they raised
included:
Whether the name "black studies" was proper in an unsegregated school,
whether a "Negro American Studies Department" might not be a better
choice, concerns the School of Education has had about impressions of anti-
Semitism and pro-Nazism in meetings run by the BSU, Garrett's failure to
show up at a School of Education meeting because of prior commitments, the
academic community's duty to live up to rationality and humanism, the duty
of a college to embrace educational problems and not problems of a minority
unit alone, the failure of the college to set up institutes on Negro history al-
though there were institutes on other groups, the possibility the Negro faculty
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 117
might form a communications link with the Negro community, asking 10 or
so distinguished scholars "maybe mostly Negroes" to meet with the deans to
discuss a first-rate program, the "tremendous dynamism now operating within
the Negro student community which needs a base for operations," a survey to
see what the college is already doing, the need to show that "American educa-
tion and American culture does a good job for all Americans," a black iden-
tity crisis that might be more important, whether the vocabulary used at
Garrity's home had been less sharp and abusive than that used in student
meetings, whether there was a consensus for a program of Negro-American
studies, whether the problem is explosive and needs to be dealt with immedi-
ately, the need to keep from condoning separatist movements on campus, and
the challenge to higher education to accommodate to change.
At the end of this discussion, much of which indicated unfamiliarity with
what had been going on in the BSU over the past year, the CAD continued
the discussion to its next meeting, a week away.
At its June 6 meeting, the CAD approved a resolution that read:
San Francisco State College shall accept the judgment of a significant
number of its students and faculty that the present curriculum does not
adequately meet the needs of black students and other minority group
students nor adequately confront and comprehend the history and pres-
ent realities of the cultures and communities of Negro-Americans and
other minority groups in the United States and the world.
This college shall therefore seek the means necessary to meet those
needs and to comprehend these realities. This college shall support
fully whatever means are essential for the fulfillment of the intentions
of this resolution.
Garrity translated that to mean that the CAD "is suggesting that a faculty
person be hired and assigned to take a major role in the planning and working
on this problem. Also each school will try to fund a person to participate in
this effort . . . possibly in a seminar meeting regularly."
During the summer months, CAD minutes indicated some action exploring
the difficulties of hiring a black studies planner and getting a funding grant
from private sources, but no real progress for a variety of reasons.
There was little, by that time, disagreement on the need for some sort of
emphasis on the history of minority groups. A Council of Academic Deans
report adopted September 19, 1967, noted in part:
. . . There can be little doubt that in the period of increasing unrest
among black and other minority groups an attack on the problem of
the relevance and meaning of a college education for these groups de-
mands a high priority indeed. . . .
In the eyes of many, the educational problem of black and other
minority students from kindergarten through college is the problem of
relevance, estrangement, and identity. It is hypothesized that the high
drop-out rate, the low grades, and the general lack of motivation among
large numbers of minority students are due not only to a general feeling
of separateness, but also to a more specific folk recognition that educa-
tion under the authority of the white community fails to focus upon
subject matter that is germane to the life experiences of the people in
the minority community.
118 Shut It Down!
The same report, however, also detailed the kinds of things the BSU was
finding increasingly frustrating.
Early attempts to come to grips with the problem, it said, "were discour-
aging in that they dramatized the inadequacy of a support, the lack of a coor-
dinated strategies, and the uncertainty of a sound intellectual foundation."
Recognition of that led to setting up a task force of faculty, administra-
tion, and representatives of the BSU "to launch an immediate, urgent, and
thoroughgoing exploration of the problem with an eye toward discovering
some beginning answers in the near future."
But the BSU, however cooperative it may have been on one level, was at
another level growing more and more tired of what appeared to it to be un-
reasonable delays.
Then came the fall 1967 semester with its confrontation tactics, its threats
of violence, criticism of the BSU, and the Gater incident.
Administrators said they felt as if they were running from one crisis to the
next with no time for any long-range planning. Minutes from the CAD's
January 16, 1968, meeting include the following:
Dean Pentony said that . . . because of the events of the fall, the
Task Force [authorized June 6] had not been able to move far from its
organizational meeting. ... He commented also that he felt that the
college's credibility, particularly with the task force idea, was reaching
nearly zero with the blacks and also vice versa. He said he felt that if
the IPC resolution goes through our group and the [Academic] Senate,
and if the black students don't get a chance to participate, they'll boy-
cott the program. ... Dr. Garrity said he felt the IPC was committing
the college to black studies as a program and as a program educationally
sound, while the CAD had come to a point of feeling uncertain about
the educational soundness.
The CAD at that meeting did endorse the intent of the resolution to start a
black studies program which the IPC had adopted the previous March. Pentony,
however, was right in his assessment of the credibility gap. Blacks by that
time felt the college was deliberately stalling.
"They appointed a task force," said Vice President Glenn Smith later, "and
the task force dropped the ball. They didn't meet."
Faculty and student interviews indicated a number of things happened in
the fall of 1967 to create that credibility gap, including the student infighting,
and the handling of one discipline problem in particular by President John
Summerskill.
Summerskill suspended several white staff members of the campus news-
paper, Open Process, after it printed a poem the administration termed ob-
scene. He lifted the suspensions the next day, partly, Smith said, on the ad-
vice of the American Civil Liberties Union. But he had earlier suspended six
black students involved in the Gater beating, and when they remained sus-
pended until the spring semester, several BSU leaders termed the difference in
the handling of the two cases another example of racism.
The impressions of unwarranted delay, though, extend beyond the black
students.
"Summerskill and [Robert] Smith [his successor] were committed," said a
black faculty member who had been involved from the beginning. "People in
the IPC and the committee ran them around in circles."
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 119
The Reverend A. Cecil Williams was one of the handful of black commu-
nity leaders who met with college officials and black students almost from the
beginning. The administration position, he said, did not seem reasonable.
I had a feeling that they were caught up in the bureaucracy maze for
one thing. That the real issue at hand here was those administrators
didn't have any power to act. That the problem that they faced was
with the Board of Trustees who undoubtedly had been very reactionary
to any significant movement in the demands of the students, were in
fact unable to be moved to the degree that something significant could
come out of it. And what they were doing was trying to buy off the
students to a great degree. They offered them small measures of things
that certainly were unreasonable to the students. We understood that
also, we talked about it with the students.
First of all, they couldn't understand the philosophy projected by
black people . . . basically a self-determination philosophy. The real
problem with most of the men who gathered . . . was that they were
probably liberal, or liberals, but they wanted to act like liberals usually
act, and that, you know, they just didn't understand ....
Question You mean, "Here, boy, lemme give you a hand?"
Answer Yes. They just didn't understand at this particular point
that there's a new mood and a new tempo in regards to complete direc-
tion, a new direction in the black community. And basically, they
didn't even know how to react to it ....
The philosophy the college projected in those discussions, in Williams'
view, was
Let's talk about it, let's make sure that we understand you and you
understand us, and reason is more important than. . . . You know, John
Summerskill is a liberal man and we need this kind of man in the educa-
tional system, and . . . we'll get more from him than we will from, say,
a person who's conservative. Just give us time to do it. They talked in
time spans of like two to five years, these kinds of things. They wanted
to talk about the critical problems they were facing, in regards to other
schools within the academic community, what they were trying to do
with them. And also, they went on to say, we cannot in fact let this
studies department . . . overshadow any other department, we've got to
work it together, it's got to be integrated into the total kind of process
that we have, and we've got to do it the same old way that it has been
done. And what they were talking about was working through the
bureaucracy maze. . . .
Others talked about feeling that the students were being placed on the
same old "treadmill of conversation" that they had tried for so long, and
grown so tired of.
The American system of getting things done by compromising, watering
down, "is archaic," said a black elected official. "It's a game that us adults
play. It's a game that gets a lot of people hurt. It is a very serious game. It
doesn't address itself to the real issues. You get caught up in emotion, the
sound and the fury, words, outward appearances, but you don't deal with the
basic issues. That's the dilemma, really."
120 Shut It Down!
Translated, that means that by November 6, 1968, the day of the strike,
SFSC still had no black studies department, although there were 18 black
studies courses and plans had been approved to grant a degree in black studies
beginning in September 1969. Blacks who were freshmen when Garrett first
suggested the idea were now Juniors.
"I think it got to the point of strike because they [the students] had liter-
ally gone through 18 months of negotiations," said the official. "I know that
this is true because I was involved in certain parts of it. ... And they really
attempted to use democratic, legitimate avenues of redress and grievance and
committee meetings and more meetings, and the strike came about because I
think they . . . legitimately damned tired of promises that were broken, of ex-
tended negotiations that weren't going anywhere, that didn't seem to be pro-
ductive. They got Nathan Hare on campus which was one success, but then
Nathan Hare was left for months without even a secretary. ..."
The administration during this time was convinced it was acting with un-
usual sympathy and dispatch.
"... Part of the absolute nonsense of the current situation is [the idea]
that the radical and black, etc., have not had access to the holy sees of power,"
said Garrity. "As a matter of fact the guys who did not have access were the
conservatives, the reactionaries .... Jimmy Garrett spent more time in Sum-
merskill's office than [presidential aide] Glenn Smith and I put together . . .
any radical faculty member could get in and spend an hour, and [Dean
DeVere] Pentony could spend ten minutes, and a conservative . . . couldn't
get inside the door."
But the BSU was beginning to operate on a different theory that the pres-
ident's office at SFSC was in fact powerless, that real control lay with the
chancellor's office and the Board of Trustees. The realization dawned slowly,
several people said, as Summerskill kept agreeing with BSU ideas, but seemed
unable to deliver what they thought he was promising.
"Summerskill . . . was a good man but he is in the wrong century," said
Garrett. ". . . We talked to him every day, but he was wishy-washy. He
couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to be a white college president or a
human being. ... He could have reformed us right out of existence. He could
have organized in such a way to make that black studies program live and the
Black Student Unions around this country may never have gotten developed.
But it wasn't him. He did not have the confidence of the faculty, or those ad-
ministrators. So we got hung up in committees, stuff like that. He was all-
right, but he was just in the wrong century."
The black elected official, involved in some of the conferences with Sum-
merskill, tended to agree. There was no progress in SummerskilFs case, he
said, "because he made a couple of moves that were rather progressive moves
for a college at that time . . . where he lost political support in an otherwise
Republican conservative State. And I think he was frowned upon because of
his involvement with the black students, and I think it just made his life much
more complicated, and the support that would have ordinarily accompanied
him had he played the Hayakawa role just dropped away."
The official said Summerskill confided to him before he resigned under
pressure that he-
resigned on principle, and that principle was that he knew clearly that
he was not making the decisions to make San Francisco State grow, as a
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 121
college or university, and that the dilemma he found himself in was in-
surmountable. He had to grapple with the State legislature, to grapple
with the Board of Trustees, and he had also to grapple with the admin-
istrative hierarchy in the system ... so that he could not function as a
president making independent decisions. It was all interrelated, com-
plex, very difficult to move, having to satisfy too many parties in order
to get something done. . . .
This comment reflects the attitudes of many students and black commu-
nity leaders who discussed their feelings, and again indicates the difference in
outlook between the black and white community spokesmen. Time and time
again in civil-rights discussions, in other parts of the Nation, black adults who
try to keep abreast of the problem say the black community cannot afford to
let another generation of its young people be crushed by the Nation's failure
to meet their by now special needs. The problem is seen as of the utmost
urgency to them. But over and over again they complain, at SFSC and else-
where, that they see whites in power who treat the problem like any other,
processing it through the normal channels as if the question were one of get-
ting funds to put up a building, and not deciding the future education and in-
come of black children. This difference in outlook produced a communica-
tions gap at SFSC almost impossible to overcome.
"You've got to take it one day at a time," said a black administrator. "It
can't come overnight. But night doesn't have to last 400 years."
By spring 1968, a sense of the importance black students attached to this
proposal was beginning to filter into faculty and administration, and work
speeded up considerably. Dr. Nathan Hare, a black psychologist and prize-
fighter who had been let go from Howard University in Washington, D.C., the
previous year for his statements against the Howard administration, was hired
by Summerskill at the advice of Garrett and over the objections of administra-
tion, staff, and some community people to coordinate the program.
After the strike started, Garrity issued a list of steps taken over the past 2
years to get a black studies department going, and a covering letter that noted:
At times it even appeared that there are some elements of the com-
munity who believe that students and faculty are in favor of a black
studies program while the administration is opposed. That belief is not
based on truth. . . . While it remains necessary to seek additional major
support for this and other programs of ethnic education, it is clear that
considerable progress is now possible through effective use of the re-
sources recently made available.
By that time, however, neither the BSU nor the black community was lis-
tening. They were not laying all blame on the administration. Both academic
senate faculty committees and the Board of Trustees, dominated by appoint-
ees loyal to Governor Reagan, were given a larger share in many cases. Their
argument, however, was that 2 years of approaches to a problem which they
knew to be so crucial was either inexcusable inefficiency or racism, depending
on how radical you were.
For their part, administrators laid much of the blame on problems raised
by the black students and others that they had to use their time to deal with
the college's presidential problems and the failure of the man they had chosen
to coordinate the program, black professor Dr. Nathan Hare to deliver.
122 Shut It Down!
Garrity said the steps the school took shows "that the college administra-
tion has moved with unusual speed in the implementation of the Black Stud-
ies Program. In fact the accomplishments to date have gone considerably be-
yond both the timetable and the faculty positions requested by Dr. Nathan
Hare and Dean Joseph White. His list read:
February 9, 1968: Appointed Dr. Nathan Hare to be Special Curric-
ulum Supervisor at the rank of lecturer with pay based on academic
rank of associate professor and with the assignment to "help design a
curriculum of black studies." Dr. Hare became a member of the staff
of the vice president for academic affairs.
Spring semester, 1968: At least 14 black studies courses offered un-
der joint auspices of various currently established departments and of
the curriculum coordinator for black studies.
March 11, 1968: Reported in faculty footnotes: "Actually this is
probably the first move at any college to try to solve the black people's
problems through education."
April 16, 1968: Proposed a department of black studies to be cre-
ated in two phases. Phase 1 would "pull together some of the currently
experimental courses into a new department by September 1968" [p. 7,
Dr. Hare's proposal] . Phase 2 would establish a black studies major by
September 1969. The curriculum "has been constructed but certain
rough edges are still being ironed out."
"Professors and staff must be added at appropriate rates, beginning
with three professors by September 1969, and accelerating to a full de-
partmental staff with each succeeding year" [p. 8, Dr. Hare's report] .
April 12, 1968: Reappointed Dr. Hare for 1968-69, invited him to
teach in addition to administrative assignment if he so desired, and
agreed to adjust his administrative duties to permit this arrangement.
August 2, 1968: Proposed that a B.A. degree in black studies start-
ing in 1969-70 be approved by the trustees [see record of approval be-
low on October 24] . Dr. Garrity's letter to the chancellor's office [Dr.
Gerhard Friedrich] stated on p. 7, "It is anticipated that during the
coming year a complete major program in black studies will be devel-
oped and presented for consideration by our college curriculum com-
mittee."
September 1968: Appointed Dr. Joseph White as dean of under-
graduate studies.
September 17, 1968: Created a department of black studies and
named Dr. Nathan Hare to be acting chairman.
Fall semester, 1968: More than 20 black studies courses offered un-
der joint auspices of black studies and established departments.
September 30, 1968: Confirmed September 24, 1968, oral agree-
ment committing 1.2 positions for immediate use.
October 21, 1968: Memo to President Smith states that the black
studies courses now in session will be transferred to the black studies
department in spring or fall 1969. The black studies department is as-
signed for administrative assistance and supervision to the dean of un-
dergraduate studies.
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 123
October 24, 1968: Approved black studies degree. First such pro-
gram in California State colleges. To be implemented, September 1969
[date suggested by Dr. Hare in his April 1968 proposal] .
October 24, 1968: In a joint meeting approved the black studies
B.A. degree proposal and recommendation for 11.3 positions.
November 4, 1968: Revised proposal for black studies B.A. degree
presented to Vice President Garrity. Three faculty positions are
"needed to initiate the proposed degree program" [p. 8] [later increased
to 1 1 .3 positions] .
December 5, 1968: 1 1 .3 positions to be taken from regularly ap-
proved programs and given to the black studies department in order to
permit it to expand in spring 1969, without waiting for a budget alloca-
tion [which could not start until fall 1969 at the earliest]. CAD ap-
proved "the implementation of the black studies department with full
faculty power commensurate with that accorded all other departments
at the college. This power includes the selection of faculty and shaping
of the program" (quoted from letter to President S. I. Hayakawa from
CAD).
December 17, 1968: Requested Dean Joseph White as "chief aca-
demic officer responsible for the black studies program" to develop and
forward to the vice president's office by January 10: the courses in
black studies to be offered in spring 1969; the selection and assignment
of faculty and the need for office space.
January 2, 1969: In a letter to Dr. Gerhard Friedrich at the chancel-
lor's office stated the college's intention "to begin the formal offering
of the [black studies] program in the spring semester 1969, which ad-
vances the timetable of our original submission."
[Note: A study of the above chronology and of the full records reveals that the col-
lege administration has moved with unusual speed in the implementation of the black
studies program. In fact, the accomplishments to date have gone considerably beyond
both the timetable and the faculty positions requested by Dr. Nathan Hare and Dean
Joseph White.]
There was a great deal of confusion on campus at the time about what had
actually happened to the program. Blacks were saying the college had sabo-
taged it, and Garrity's chronology might have managed to convince many the
program was at least still alive had it been issued earlier, and had blacks by
that time not been occupied with other problems.
One was simply the loss of a safety valve. Summerskill resigned in May
1968, putting an end to the close relationship that had developed between the
president of the college and top activists in the BSU.
His successor, Robert Smith, came with tremendous backing from the
faculty but was not well known to the blacks. One community spokesman
described him as a good, liberal man, without the empathy Summerskill had
for the problems of black students. At least, the empathy did not come
across.
The result was a major change in BSU approach, illustrated by a story one
professor likes to tell. Immediately after the beating of the Gater editor, he
said, he saw George Murray fleeing from the building across a short stretch of
lawn to the Administration Building. The administrator hurried toward the
124 Shut It Down!
rapidly growing commotion Murray had just left, saw what had happened,
called police first, then telephoned Summerskill to inform him.
"There's one thing to be thankful for," Summerskiil is said to have replied.
"George Murray wasn't involved."
"What do you mean, wasn't involved?" the administrator exploded.
"He couldn't have been," Summerskill is quoted as saying. "He's right
here in my office."
Instead of using the new president's office as a refuge, Smith was treated
to the already-described name-calling tactics.
Part of the BSU attitude toward Smith was due to a change in its own
leadership. Garrett had left school in June, turning the reins of the BSU over
to a central committee which had been formed partly because the workload
had grown too large for one person to handle, and partly as a reaction to
Garrett's own intensely personal brand of leadership.
He had tried the previous year to develop new leaders within the BSU.
Taking people with him to discussions with administrators was one technique
discussed earlier. Another was to appear at student legislature meetings with
two lieutenants, usually Stewart, who succeeded him as chairman, and Jerry
Varnado. Garrett would make the opening statement, then sit back and give
Stewart and Varnado experience at handling the argument. He stepped back
in if needed, but as time wore on toward the end of the spring 1967 semester,
he gave them more and more of the responsibility.
With Garrett out of the picture, however, whites discovered that neither
Stewart nor Varnado was as accessible, as easy to talk to, or as willing to bar-
gain as Garrett had been. They set their own style and their own directions,
and from the point of view of the whites involved, the BSU had closed one
more door to communications.
Summer 1968 was a rough time for black activists around the country.
Assassinations, election campaigns many thought were racist, and repeated
small rebellions in the ghettos put tempers on edge. The Huey Newton trial
and all the other local issues already described strained the already tenuous
communications between the BSU and moderate whites, so that by the time
the fall semester began, and the University of California regents began to
crack down on Eldridge Cleaver, many of the college faculty and administra-
tion were convinced they were sitting on a tinderbox, waiting for a spark.
A DIFFERENT POINT OF VIEW
Some significant points about what has been said up to now need to be
brought out here. While the Study Team made no attempt to exhaustively
survey the opinions of all black professors at SFSC, they did talk to every
black administrator and most of the actively involved black faculty and ad-
ministration, as well as the most involved black community spokesmen.
Not a single one of these black adults was willing to say that the black stu-
dents had been dealt with fairly by the college. A few were privately angry at
the tactics used by the BSU, while others either supported the tactics or else
considered them inevitable given the present situation. But they agreed that
the overriding issues were an education relevant to the needs of black stu-
dents, and an approach to black problems that still contains a great deal of
racism.
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 125
Racism is one of those emotional words which has been thrown around so
much in the last year or so that it has lost most of its meaning. But the black
administration and faculty at SFSC see many concrete examples. While white
administrators may congratulate themselves with the recent sharp increase in
the number of black administrators, for instance, the black administrators all
spoke in rather bitter terms about the fact that the college had not seen the
need to put blacks in these positions until recently.
"They're scared of blacks," said one black professor. "Tom Williams [a
BSU member] had set up some kind of community education program and he
wanted to use a couple of rooms. . . . They called a series of meetings. I sat
in on a few meetings. They said what if our typewriters get broken? Williams
said he'd take out extra insurance. Other groups have used the facilities, and
they don't get questions like that. The objections were clearly racist in origin.
The students are becoming increasingly militant, increasingly bitter."
These involved black adults saw the State-college system piling mistake
upon mistake in dealing with minority student problems, without any individ-
ual of substantive power being knowledgeable enough about black attitudes
to catch what was going on. Some felt this compounding of error upon error
was really a series of innocent mistakes based on lack of understanding of the
problem, while others felt it pointed out a basic racism in whites the stub-
born refusal to understand. Either way, however, blacks came out on the
short end again, many said. And that is the significance of the support given
to the black students by San Francisco's generation of black leaders over 30.
Several of the black community spokesmen who said privately they
thought the BSU was mistaken in its tactics violence and nonnegotiable
demands refused categorically to say so publicly because, they explained, the
students did have legitimate grievances. And white society has proved by its
actions time and time again that if a black spokesman utters words that ap-
pear to criticize the actions of other blacks, those words will be picked up by
whites in power and used as an excuse for not doing anything about the basic
problem.
They see Governor Reagan's position of not dealing with the issues until
the campus quiets down as an ideal example of this. If you don't want vio-
lence, they argue, then get rid of the frustrations. An attitude like Reagan's
will probably, they feel, be used to stall remedies indefinitely, because noth-
ing is done when campuses are quiet, and when they are not, that fact is used
as an excuse for doing nothing.
For reasons like this, some of the black community spokesmen who had
the strongest reservations about the student strike when it first began have
become vocal supporters of the students.
This divergence of viewpoints is another item that seems unlikely to be
smoothed over in the near future, particularly in a State like California where
black leaders generally feel the State leaders have little sympathy and almost
no understanding of black problems.
ON THE BRINK
Both the violent incidents and the faculty debate on the particulars of
black studies continued into the fall semester of 1968 with the tactics of each
side making the other more recalcitrant.
126 Shut It Down!
Administrators accused Nathan Hare and the BSU of failing to do the work
they had promised on the black studies department. Hare and the BSU shot
back that the work had not been done because it was obvious that the college
did not really want the kind of program the BSU wanted, and was stalling on
money and manpower. Incidents of violence upset the faculty and staff.
Academic Senator Ralph Anspach resigned from the IPC with a blast at de-
lays and decision changes on black studies which he said contributed signifi-
cantly to the "frustration of the blacks on this campus and hence were instru-
mental in precipitating the deplorable and unacceptable turmoil in which we
now find ourselves." Twice during the series of meetings in Anspach's follow-
ing description, Hare walked out in anger:
[The IPC] on October 24 adopted by a 5-0 vote . . . the program of
the black studies degree major and decided that the department be
staffed with 11.3 faculty positions. . . . Five days later ... an adminis-
tration representative and the senate's executive committee prodded the
academic senate to pass a mysterious and apparently useless resolution
once again reaffirming the senate's approval in principle of the black
studies program. ... On Monday, November 4, the IPC called a special
meeting and . . . was informed ex cathedra that the administration and
not the faculty had the power to make staffing decisions. The IPC ac-
quiesced in this and rescinded its previous recommendation ... it gave
the administration the right to staff the black studies department with
as few as three positions for 1968-69.
Garrity told the Commission that the IPC had in fact entered a policy area
that was none of its business. Neither Hare nor the BSU paid much attention
to such cleanly drawn lines, however.
"There was no compromise because the BSU was testing their wings," said
a black administrator. "The students really felt strongly [against] that all this
questioning had to occur. They felt the concurrence of Nathan Hare and my-
self should have been the decisive factor. The school's response when it got
to that point [a strike] was 'OK, let's talk,' which is precisely what they were
sick of. Especially then, because they were now veterans, not seniors who
suddenly thought they wanted a black studies program."
Why didn't the college listen?
Their habituation level had gone up to the level where it didn't pene-
trate. At a meeting of the Council of Academic Deans, Jerry Varnado
began pointing at people around the table. "Let's see, that's an enemy
there, here's a pig, there's an enemy there." ... it didn't bother them,
they just sat there.
At another meeting . . . they got an empty wastebasket, tore up pa-
per, dropped it in, lit a match, dropped it in, shoved the wastebasket
across the rug and said "it could be as easy as that." They had gotten
used to it. If black people wanted the speaker's platform, they just go
down and take it. If no whites were allowed in to hear LeRoi Jones,
well, everybody just figures out a reason why.
Many on the SFSC campus believe that the trustees' order to President
Smith to reassign George Murray to a nonteaching job played a large role in
turning the already planned student strike from a one-day affair protesting
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 127
the lack of a black studies program to an ongoing walkout with a list of 1 5
nonnegotiable demands. Many believe relations had deteriorated to the point
where had Murray not been handy, there would have been some other inci-
dent seen as so repressive that it triggered the same thing. But Murray, in this
case, was it.
The trustees acted when Murray, after being involved in the Gater beating
the previous year and traveling to Cuba during the summer, stood on a cafe-
teria table in late October to announce a student strike November 6 to protest
the slow progress on black studies. He was reported to have urged students to
bring guns to campus on that day that is the quote that was bannered in the
newspapers. Administration officials say they have been unable to prove that
Murray said that, and the afternoon Examiner newspaper several days later
mentioned in the middle of one story that Murray's suggestion to bring guns
did not appear to be linked with his call for the strike. By that time, how-
ever, the damage had been done. His suspension without a hearing was looked
on as a racist act by the BSU, and was opposed by many faculty. It was clear
Smith had wanted to resist but could not. He immediately became the focus
of the strike, and to the BSU a perfect example of why they could not trust
whites to give them what they needed, and would have to from now on push
for a completely autonomous department.
Newspaper stories usually identify Murray as the minister of education for
the Panthers, or the student who advocated shooting conservative Superin-
tendent of Public Instruction Max Rafferty, or the SFSC instructor who com-
pared the American flag to a piece of toilet paper in a speech at Fresno State
College. Murray did all these things, but he is a much more complex figure
than they would indicate.
"Three or four years ago George Murray was well groomed, had his hair
cut, knew how to make it in middle-class society," said a teacher who knew
him then. "George was the sincere one who did the work. He worked very
hard. I saw that guy change in 2 to 3 years from a very respectable, approach-
able guy to one who talked fuck this and fuck that. Certainly he wasn't this
way two or three years ago. Now there's a certain rhetoric, a certain way you
present yourself. George is brilliant."
Judging from the comments of the man responsible for recommending
Murray as an instructor in remedial English, Murray kept that approachability
and tendency to work hard in the classroom, whatever else he may have done
outside.
"He ran a fairly tight class," said Patrick Gleeson. "Lots of questions. He'd
listen very carefully to students, then bear down on what they were really
saying. . . . Murray did not teach separatism. He was generous in talking
about the dilemma for the Jewish guy in one of Richard Wright's stories. . . .
Murray was . . . teaching what black consciousness was. It was not patroniz-
ing with him, he tried to relate it to their [whites] experiences so they could
understand. ... he worked hard to let them reveal to themselves the implica-
tions of what they said when they made comments that were racist, so they
wouldn't be embarrassed or put down by him."
By special arrangement, the BSU sent a lot of blacks to Murray's English
section, because in teaching what black consciousness was he was giving stu-
dents what the BSU thought they needed to know. His firing convinced them
they might never get their program through a white college administration.
128 Shut It Down!
"They would give us a black studies department tomorrow if we didn't
want to hire Stokely and George Murray, people who relate to us," said a
black administrator. And that, too, is what the BSU means when it talks
about "self-determination."
STRIKE TACTICS AND GOALS
November 6, 1968, marked a deliberate shift in the public pronounce-
ments of the BSU and TWLF. On that date their strike began, and on that
date they added power to the cries of racism and injustice they had raised
over the past 2 years. Power in the form of an autonomous department of
black studies, a student-controlled department of ethnic studies and a non-
negotiable policy on their 15 demands.
"I'd just like to lay down these three principles on which our struggle is
based," Ben Stewart told the campus newspaper Open Process. "The first is
our fight against racism. The second is our right to seize power in order to
control our own destinies. This means not only talking about this principle
but inflicting political consequences when that principle is disregarded. And
the other thing is very revolutionary and probably an ti- American, because
American means no power to the people, only power to the few. That is, that
the 15 demands are nonnegotiable, which means that we want them all ... no
piecemeal programs, no compromises we want all of them. ... We say the
spirit of the people is greater than the man's technology, and once the people
have a sense of this and they break that old slave-master relationship by not
merely asking what the slave-master is willing to give us, then the day of the
slave-master is over."
To successfully demand power your political consequences have to be
quite severe, and the most radical students decided they had a promising plan,
a rather sophisticated variant of guerrilla warfare which the administration ad-
mitted was proving exceedingly difficult to combat. Stewart outlined it just
before the strike to a non whites-only meeting of TWLF :
It just so happens that the members of the BSU Central Committee
have been analyzing how student movements have been functioning.
Taking over buildings, holding it for two or three days, and then the
thing is dead. Most of your leaders are ripped off and thrown in jail, or
the masses are thrown in jail, and there's no one to lead them. From
our analysis of this, we think we have developed a technique to deal
with this for a prolonged struggle. We call it the war of the flea . . .
what does the flea do? He bites, sucks blood from the dog, the dog
bites. What happens when there are enough fleas on a dog? What will
he do? He moves. He moves away. He moves on. And what the man
has been running down on us, he's psyched us out, in terms of our man-
hood. He'll say, what you gone do, nigger? You try in' to be a man,
here he is with shotguns, billy clubs, .357 magnums, and all you got is
heart. Defenseless. That's not the way it's going to go any more. We
are the people. We are the majority and the pigs cannot be everywhere,
everyplace all the time. And where they are not, we are. And some-
thing happens. The philosophy of the flea. You just begin to wear
them down. Something is always costin' them. You can dig it ...
something happens all the time. Toilets are stopped up. Pipes is out.
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 129
Water in the bathroom is just runnin' all over the place. Smoke is com-
ing out the bathroom. "I don't know nothin' about it. I'm on my way
to take an exam. Don't look at me. . . ." When the pig comes down
full force, ain't nothin' happening. He retreats. When they split, it goes
on and on and on ....
We should fight the racist administration on our grounds from now
on where we can win. When he disrespects our humanity, then he
pays. ... Pig stepped on my shoes. I told you about that. WHOP!
[laughter] ... A young brother . . . looked at me and smiled. He said,
"Man, you ought to know better . . . you're out here on this white
man's college campus, you can't be doin' none of that. You're in the
minority. . . ."
So I said look here, brother ... say we're 10 percent. Do they ask
the black community . . . well, they're just 10 percent Negroes up there
at San Francisco State college, so we're only gonna ask the black com-
munity for 10 percent of their taxes. Hell no! It don't go like that.
They get us all. And some of your mommas and daddies never have and
never will be able to go to State, and some of your young sisters and
brothers will never be able to. ...
"The administration doesn't understand the new student language," said
white Prof. Ralph Anspach. "When they talk about a strike, they mean a
strike in the old labor union sense of the word close the institution down."
For several days in the next couple of months they succeeded in doing just
that, with the help of striking American Federation of Teachers professors
and a variety of classroom disruptions, wastebasket and washroom fires, ran-
sacked offices, smashed windows, small bombs, police-student melees on
campus, and threats.
The tactics had a double purpose. First to close down the campus both by
causing such disruption that work was impossible, and by making students,
staff, and teachers afraid to set foot on it for fear of harm.
Second, to gain power either by forcing the administration to grant the de-
mands, or by forcing it into such repressive counteractions that support for
the strikers would grow. Tony Miranda, 20-year-old TWLF activist, described
the philosophy behind the strike:
We decided first of all that student movements up to this point had
been absolutely worthless in terms of effects. In terms of physical
gains ... the one-day strike was a test of strength, to find out who was
supporting us and in terms of what we could get. It was planned that
way.
FSM [Free Speech Movement] at Berkeley did not gain free speech.
Student movements traditionally have not meant a thing. The thing
that went down at Columbia did not gain a thing for the people in Har-
lem. They're still building that gymnasium and people are still being
arrested and persecuted.
What it boils down to is that we're tired of fighting symbols In
other words we want to talk about fighting the military-industrial com-
plex. Kicking ROTC off campus just don't make it in terms of symbols.
We decided our demands were going to relate to right now and to
what we need. Educational demands. And educational issues. Each of
130 Shut It Down!
the demands are interlocking or relate to what has been going on at
State for the last six years.
When we called the strike first of all we needed to test our backing.
Our constituency. What happened was that we had more support than
we thought we did. We decided that we were not going to make a sym-
bolic fight . . . but that we are going to get it. We are going to fight for
it. We can no longer afford to wait. That's what it boils down to.
The decision to continue to strike has been made all the way along.
We decided to have a one-day strike, following that we sat down and
decided to have a continuous thing. It was a predetermined decision,
but we had to make our decision on the basis of what was going on. ...
The BSU called the strike. Then Third World joined the strike two days
later
The strikers always maintained, up to this point [Feb. 9] still have, a
gradual steady increase, which is slow and a day-to-day process, with
occasional setbacks which are very small. Your mainstream of support
continues to grow.
With the advent of police on campus you got a large increase, be-
cause people just happen to hate the pigs. At the point of the [Nov.]
13th, I would say it was people who were interested mainly in hating
the pigs.
The convocations heightened it. We would have meetings right after
the convocations, and mobs of people were coming in whom we didn't
have before. And basically out of the convocation we got a lot of sup-
port. The contradictions that were shown in evidence by the position
of the administration [during convocation] and it showed the stupidity
of how the administration was thinking.
For instance, a woman gave . . . $75,000 ... to black students gener-
ally, and the administration blocked it and sent back the money, and
when this question came up at convocation they didn't have an answer.
Then they came back and gave their answer no discrimination is al-
lowed. And they didn't have the right to do it, because it wasn't willed
to them. And things like that. Helen Bedensem [financial aids officer]
had sent back $1 19,000 to the Federal Government because she said
there weren't enough needy students. 2 These are the types of things
that people are just beginning to really realize have been going on. How
the contradictions were heightening. So we had that and that was
something that white students could relate to.
So when the convocations were over, the pigs started coming down
on people's heads and that also made them realize what is going on.
Not only are they lousing things up by their attitude, but they are using
pigs to stop us to get what we want . . . and it got many people very up-
set. People became involved and became educated to the real issues,
and they became educated to the actual reality of pigs on the campus.
It was a twofold educational process.
"People are learning more in a day on strike than they learned in two
years," said BSU member Terry Collins. "I've had white girls tell me that.
With the strike, they can't fool around talking like they do in class, they've
got to learn. It's a political learning process."
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 131
Disruption of classes appeared to grow naturally from tactics the BSU had
been developing right along. Teams of strikers, some all black and some all
white, would rush into classrooms, announce that class is dismissed, and either
leave, or leave with a vague warning that there might be consequences if the
class continued. Sometimes the intruders were reported wearing stocking
masks. They moved so fast that plainclothes police could do little to catch
them.
This compares with 1967 as described by James Garrett:
There were a number of little skirmishes going on. Black students
began to pull together on different kinds of things. We would have our
cultural program three times a week . . . little battles and little fights
and little arguments. . . . and we tried petitioning the school several
times saying that certain things were coming from a racist's position.
The school wouldn't listen.
Question Whom did you talk to?
Answer Faculty, we had meetings with the executive committee of
the faculty, we would have meetings with chairmen of departments . . .
the leadership of the college would combat us constantly . . . but if we
called any of them a racist for what he was doing, what we thought was
racist coming from some real negative stuff we would go to the chair-
man of the department, and they would just tell us to go to hell, so we
would go back to the teacher's classroom and disrupt his classes what
we were doing was pointing out to him how he was being a racist. You
see, you destroy the whole discipline thing, because we would study all
night and come back the next day and eat him up, you see, so he
couldn't deal with us. So we did that for a while. People got riled up
about it, and they got scared of us, and stuff like that. And then the
Gater thing finally got violent.
"Violence is something which can only be used when people are politi-
cized," said Miranda. "In other words, before you can engage in violence,
you have to have people politically sophisticated enough to be aware that (1)
this is not a nonviolent country, and (2) that violence is going to be necessary.
That we are beyond the age of pacifistic sit-ins. Pacifistic sit-ins gain you a
cracked head, a set of co-opted demands. As I said before, no decision has
come down from the Central Committee related to any of these things. . . .
Our goal is not to destroy the institution. Our goal is to make the institution
address itself to our needs and have an education which is relevant
Leading members of BSU and TWLF were careful not to be caught damag-
ing property themselves. An SFSC student caught in a police sweep described
what she saw:
The squads [of police] were coming, you could see the police. He
[an unidentified black student] said . . . make your presence known as
you leave. Well, the point is we were moving sort of fast because we
were trying to get off campus, but there was no intention on the part of
most people to do any rock throwing, but suddenly there was this tre-
mendous volume of rock throwing.
It was particularly nasty because the way they were throwing they
were coming down on the heads of the marchers to begin with and also
hitting the glass windows. I saw a shower of glass coming down on a
355-234 O - 69 - 10
132 Shut It Down!
girl. A number of people in the group began shouting "Stop, you're go-
ing to hurt people inside." The number of people throwing was quite
small, I didn't see any blacks throwing.
Tactics were often unspeciflc. One melee witnessed by several Commission
researchers began when TWLF announced a rally would be held on the Com-
mons in defiance of a ban on them there by Acting President S. I. Hayakawa.
As the scheduled hour approached, a few dozen students began to gather on
the Commons at the lower end, while helmeted police took up very visible
positions at either end of the grassy lawn. A crowd of about 250 persons
quickly formed, most hanging back along the asphalt paths that cross the
grass as if they wanted to see the action, but did not want to get involved. A
half-dozen students, one Oriental, one black, the rest white, crisscrossed the
grass shouting loudly "on strike, shut it down," the strike rallying cry. As the
crowd grew larger, police made their move. The group at the lower end of the
Commons marched south in a line, and without any bodily contact, the crowd
began to move toward the main path which ran in front of the library close to
the second line of police. Shouts of "pigs," along with assorted obscenities,
filled the air. As the crowd neared the library, a few stones were thrown to
the police who stood in front of that glass-doored building. When the police
moved forward in response, several students inside the library gave the doors
booming kicks. A knot of policemen rushed back to the library, and as they
broke away on the run a barrage of stones swirled down upon the line of offi-
cers. They came from the rear fringes of the mostly white crowd, and as
there were no rocks nearby, they would have to have been carried with the
people who threw them. At the same time, most of the BSU and TWLF lead-
ers remained at the north end of the Commons, where other officers were
busy making wholesale arrests from inside a double ring of officers that had
surrounded the crowd on the speakers' platform. The stone-throwing crowd
was driven off; campus order was restored without further incident.
In general, bringing police on campus appeared to bring in many students
who otherwise would not have gotten involved. Their response was similar to
but less intense than that of students at the Democratic Convention in Chi-
cago last August. Rocks and sticks were thrown, shouts of "pigs off campus"
and "oink, oink" were heard, along with a variety of obscenities. Few ap-
peared to pay much attention to Hayakawa's statement that "there are no
innocent bystanders."
The variety of acts committed in the name of the strike included class dis-
ruption, bombings, arson, vandalism, epithets, and implied threats. The Study
Team tried without success to track down newspaper reports of direct threats,
particularly to members of the football and basketball teams. Those coaches
were generally uncooperative, and team members contacted all said they
either did not wish to discuss the matter with the Study Team or had not
been directly threatened.
Complaints most frequently lodged against police included clubbings, beat-
ings, and the failure to distinguish the innocent onlooker from the active
stone thrower. Both BSU and TWLF tried to exploit these complaints to the
limit, with considerable success. A number of students interviewed said that
after watching police in action, they were more afraid of being attacked at
random in a police sweep than they were of being attacked by strikers. Most
of the 731 arrested were white.
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 133
The implied threats generally took the same form as BSU tactics in the stu-
dent legislature battles a year before. Students were jeered and warned if
they crossed picket lines, and a strike-support booklet put out largely by SDS
included the following item:
ATTENTION SCABS WHAT ARE YOU DOING
By crossing the picket line you have consciously or not put yourself
in a position against the strike of the BSU-TWLF. This is a strike against
racism . . . that recognizes the right of the oppressed Third World peo-
ple to self-determination by any means necessary ... by crossing the
line you have made your choice there is no middle ground.
You are being used by Hayakawa and the trustees to break the
strike . . . [the administration] has appealed to your narrow self interest
by constantly pushing the attitude on you that "/ have a right to go to
school,/ want to get my education."
Too many scabs have given lip service to the support of the 1 5 de-
mands but still go to class. . . . What you are really saying is that you
support the right of Third World people to better their conditions,
but you don't support their efforts to achieve that better condition. . . .
Friend, that is a pretty racist attitude . . . the selfish individualist atti-
tude of you scabs . . . can no longer be tolerated. . . .
Historically, workers on strike have not dealt so kindly with scabs as
we have with you. In the current steel strike in Denison, Texas, the
workers are armed and there have been several shoot-outs with scabs.
Scabs have been beaten in numerous strikes. Not even police have been
able to protect scabs when working people have been fighting for their
lives against the bosses . . . though we know you aren't the enemy . . .
you are objectively acting as agents of Hayakawa and the trustees and
as such must be dealt with accordingly.
Several members of TWLF said classroom disruption was planned in ad-
vance as an important educational tool. A variant was classroom "education,"
where strikers would enter a room with the permission of the professor to dis-
cuss the strike issues.
Both BSU and TWLF members pointed out when questioned about the
bombings that anyone, including rightwing strike opponents or the police,
was capable of sneaking a bomb onto campus. Some said it would make no
sense to risk injuring people because that would lose the strikers' support.
They avoided answering or indicated they did not know personally of any
when asked if bombs had been a tactic of the central committee. One black
college employee did say it seemed to him that some BSU members did know
enough to give indirect warnings to stay away from a particular area. His ob-
servations, however, were not confirmed by others.
Many activists drew a sharp distinction between the kind of violence being
committed in the name of the strike, and the kind being dealt out by police.
"In this society people are taught to relate the destruction of property to
individuals," said Miranda. "They are taught to accept the beating of some-
one by a police officer or the just plain beating of someone. They are not at
all acceptable to the notion of a $200 typewriter going through a $ 1 5 win-
dow."
134 Shut It Down!
"We break property," said Carlton Goodlett, "but they don't hesitate to
take lives."
Although large numbers of individuals condemned the violence on both
sides, there were substantial numbers who felt that given the history of both
the Third World fight at SFSC and the struggle by blacks through the coun-
try's history, the issue was not so simple that they could just come out against
violence. Some representative comments:
In 1936 the University of California . . . rejected the petition of the
Negro students that outstanding Negro students of social sciences and
sociology ... be brought to the University as summer school profes-
sors ....
And 1 5 years ago a prospectus was sent to the University of Califor-
nia asking that they establish an institute for the study of California's
racial minority . . . which the University rejected summarily ... 18
months ago the California Negro Leadership Conference penned letters
to both the University of California and the board of trustees of State
colleges predicting that if it didn't respond favorably to the demands
made by members of my generation they could expect to have mass
confrontation and violence.
-Dr. Carlton B. Goodlett, President, California
Negro Leadership Conference.
People accuse you of being violent when you shove a man off your
foot after you've asked him to please stop standing on your toe. And
the myth that this is violence is a myth and has no basis in fact. A cor-
nered mouse will eventually do something in his own defense, and that
is the frustrating position that poor people are always put into, which
inevitably leads to some kind of aggression in self-defense.
Hannibal Williams.
Violence is teaching black students that they are citizens. Violence
is teaching people that they can get a measure of justice in this country
comparable to the kind of justice that John F. Kennedy would have got-
ten, had he lived, or that Ted Kennedy will get. Violence is teaching
black people that all cultures are the same, which means that all cultures
are white. . . .
-Garrett.
Society is geared to economics. If you are denied money, that's like
shooting somebody. My definition of violence is quite different than
what the newspapers say when they talk about violence. Look at vio-
lence where Chinese people earn 55 cents an hour and are denied admis-
sion to unions. Where a farm laborer's average income is $1,300 ....
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 135
Look at the kind of violence we see in the school system where Third
World people are systematically placed in second, third, or fourth
tracks; the sociological violence of an institution like the Welfare De-
partment where people are subjugated to degrading questionnaires. . . .
Miranda.
THE CASE FOR BLACK STUDIES
Black people's lives are built on a different set of experiences from
white folks. You see this historically in the persecution black people
have undergone in this country. You can also see it culturally, in our
music, art, dancing, writing, and so on. . . .
-Ben Stewart.
The struggle at San Francisco State and the BSLPs throughout the
State is a struggle for the seizure of power and the implementation of
one primary point, which is the determination of our destiny education-
ally, politically, socially and economically. In other words we are strug-
gling for freedom and the goal is the seizure of power to bring about
that freedom.
George Murray.
Like the student strike, an autonomous department of black or other eth-
nic studies is looked on by TWLF as a necessary political tool, as well as a way
of informing minorities about their history.
To the most radical, the problem is not just that black, brown, and yellow
people have not been informed of the cultures they come from. They also
have not been allowed to learn the truth about the deliberate, planned way in
which the whites who ruled this country lied, stole, cheated, murdered, bru-
talized, and in the case of Indians committed genocide to make sure they
stayed safely in power.
"The educational system robs us of learning the correct political line for
our contemporary roles in bringing about change and liberation for our peo-
ple," said Stewart in a campus newspaper interview. "Because what they
want to teach us in political science classes is the beauty and the good side of
capitalism, that our poor, poverty stricken communities just represent acci-
dents or miscalculations. But we're not going for that, because we're dealing
strictly with reality."
". . . The educational system is no accident," added Miranda. "It's not
simply a matter of not including what our culture is about, what our history
is about, what our economics are about, what our politics are about. It's a
process of miseducation. It has a purpose. One is to teach us not how to
change our community, or even how to live in it, but how to escape it by de-
nying that we are a part of it."
There's lots of talk in BSU circles about white techniques to accomplish
this. How does the white man teach minorities to escape their communities,
for instance? Two simple ways. First, by not teaching them about their own
cultures he forces them to look to his as a model. Second, he rewards the mi-
136 Shut It Down!
nority spokesmen who agree with him, giving them lavish praise, money, and
good positions. One man frequently mentioned as being in this position is
Acting President S. I. Hayakawa, a Japanese-American, who has been accused
of being installed by the trustees to deny to the general American public that
legitimate TWLF needs exist.
The result of this education, as these activists see it, is that minority group
individuals keep trying to grow up to be "good white people," as one put it,
only to learn when it is too late that they can never be white because their
skin color, or language, or name, sets them apart as targets. By that time,
however, they say, most are hopelessly committed to keep trying, lured on
by the "myth" that the country really is working toward, say, school desegre-
gation, like she says she is.
An example might go something like this: A black student who wants to
become a top anything these days is quite likely to apply to an almost all-
white school, because they have the best education. Once there, one of two
things will happen. Either he will vanish completely from the black commu-
nity, which will never get the benefit of his education because he is happily
living, laughing, and loving with whites. Or if he sees his responsibility to help
the people he comes from and begins to act in a way the white community
thinks is out of line say he calls the country racist they will simply rein him
in by threatening to cut off his education.
In this context, Eldridge Cleaver and George Murray are viewed as political
casualties, attacked not because what they said was wrong, but because whites
did not like it.
"The average white doesn't want to drastically change the structure be-
cause the present structure meets his needs," said a community organizer ac-
tive in the San Francisco area.
With that set of assumptions, it is easy to see why the BSU Central Com-
mittee concluded that they would never be given an autonomous department
of black studies, and would have to fight for it.
"You must understand the importance of your fight, the white power
structure does," Stokely Carmichael told the same TWLF meeting before
which Stewart outlined the tactics of the flea. "You should not underesti-
mate what you're fighting for. It is vitally important. Because you're now
beginning to challenge real attitudes."
In trying to organize the BSU, said Garrett, it was necessary to teach the
students that they were oppressed. "They are educated to believe that they
are not over oppressed, and if they get an education they can be not oppressed
at all."
Most of the talk about black studies departments does not reach this level
of analysis. People talk about the genuinely different culture blacks grow up
in in this country, genuinely different attitudes on many aspects of life, and
the need to tell the truth about what whites have done without attaching the
extreme political significance of the set of assumptions just outlined.
But there is still a difference between what they talk about, and just teach-
ing more facts about black history.
"Let me see if I can rephrase it this way," said Edward O. Lee, the only
black State college trustee. "You can't take people who have taught a history
course for years and have consciously or unconsciously omitted the participa-
tion of black people and then expect them all of a sudden to say in my U.S.
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 137
history course I am going to include the participation of black people. Human
nature doesn't work that way. So, in order to make sure that black participa-
tion is given its fair hearing . . . it's nice to say, for instance . . . that before
the Civil War the blacks were slaves. But I would prefer ... to make up for
the years of omission in U.S. history from a black institution standpoint.
How did blacks really view the existing society?"
Question What you are really doing then is changing the overview
not just inject courses that say what role blacks played but also give
their viewpoint.
Answer-'That's right The board is very concerned . . . that the
black studies department might be staffed by all blacks. ... I become
quite irritated when board members begin to express this simply be-
cause I did not see the same criticism about departments that were all
white. Nor do I see them talking in terms of integrating all white de-
partments right now."
Nathan Hare, in his conceptual proposal for a black studies department
attached as appendix 5, uses two key concepts new to American education to
help get across what most blacks seem to talk about.
"The whole problem is that they want to hire a white washed-type Negro,"
said Hare. "Somebody who thinks white just like them. They want to exper-
iment, do research, and get grants. They don't want the blacks to move up in
droves, either."
His community-based approach assumes that blacks and by inference
other minorities can reap enormous benefits by banding closer together, a
position the BSU has taken ever since it appeared on campus, and a position
quite in line with the feeling of the black community spokesmen interviewed
by Commission investigators. Most said they felt there was more to the prob-
lem than just teaching more facts about the history of blacks in this country,
and that feeling appears to be on the rise in the black community, whether
whites realize it or not.
The quotes used in this report do not convey the table pounding with
which some of those interviewed, particularly black community spokesmen
over 30, emphasized their sympathy with the students' cause, or their joy at
what Assemblyman Willie Brown called "an incredible display of unity."
This unity was not automatically achieved among the black people that
whites are accustomed to seeking out when they wish to find someone to tell
them how the masses of blacks feel on some issue or other. It took at least
two community meetings and numerous telephone calls before the group de-
cided to come out united in support of the student grievances.
But neither was it in any sense forced. BSU Central Committee members
had worked with some of these community spokesmen for periods of months
or years. They came when asked to explain positions some black adults had
questions about.
Perhaps most important, the initial link that drew them together was a
common feeling that in this situation as before, whites in power would prob-
ably use any excuse they could get their hands on to avoid dealing with the
basic issues.
"I would say that in a general way what most of the people who have
come out here have said is these are our black students, these are our finest,
138 Shut It Down!
these are our future, these are our hope," said Berkeley City Councilman Ron
Dellums. "They are saying that this institution is not relevant to them, that
they are not receiving an education, they are receiving an indoctrination.
Then if that is true ... I am with them in attempts they make to change it.
"Some people got hung up on the tactics, and I say that is a bad bag for us
as community people to get into. ... I am not sure that the black students
are throwing the rocks through the windows . . . but even if they were, even if
I could become the tribal chief of all black students across the country and
raise my hand and stop all the window breaking, you know damned well you
would not respond to this. So let's quit . . . that issue and start dealing with
the basic issues. . . ."
To several, the issue was the right of all black students to get the best edu-
cation they can, and not be shunted off into some second-rate junior college
because of low grades produced by an inferior high school education in the
first place.
Perhaps the best view of black thinking, however, comes from a sample of
opinions about one of the community meetings where the black community
decided what position it would take.
An estimated 200 persons attended, representing 1 50 community groups
around the Bay Area, and the meeting was memorable because Hayakawa,
invited to discuss the issues with the community, almost came to blows with
them instead.
He began by telling them how he, as a Japanese-American, had suffered
too, and therefore understood black problems, and right there ran into trou-
ble with Mrs. Elouise Westbrooks, a community-relations worker.
She said:
I think that we have heard that so oftentimes from the white com-
munity . . . how hard they worked and what they had been through.
To me I felt like it was a waste of time and energy to sit there and listen
to it, so I said to him that as much as we would like to hear the hard-
ship that he had gone through, that I would appreciate it very much if
he would get down to the issue, because we all had to go back to our
individual jobs.
So I think that kind of stunned him, because he wanted to tell how
liberal he was and all the things he had done to help black people ... so
people kept on asking him to get down to the issue and after a while he
got kind of huffy and angry. ... He did threaten to go out because
they would ask him direct questions about the 15 demands.
I kind of felt like it was a slap in the face and I think I told him so,
that it was like a slap in the face for him to treat us the way that he did
because we came over there with good faith to talk with him as one race
to another race, and we didn't have anything against him as a man but
what we were trying to talk about was the issues. . . .
Mrs. Westbrooks said he never did get to talking about the demands. "I
think he understands them very well, but I think ... he has been oriented by
the white world ... so to me, I just feel like he was just doing more acting
than really being real Hayakawa. . . ."
From Dr. Washington Garner, a police commissioner: "I think he's cater-
ing too much to the establishment and I think this is the reason that we're
The Reasons Underlying the Actions of the Black Student Strike Leaders 139
having the problems that we're having now . . . they are not paying any atten-
tion to the cries of the young people or trying to satisfy their demands."
Asked whether he felt Hayakawa understood the problems at San Fran-
cisco State, Garner replied, "Yes, I think he has, but I don't think that he is
trying to do anything about it. I don't think he is trying to implement the
understanding that he has . . . but I just think that he is listening to others
rather than to what his conscience dictates. . . ."
Others run along similar lines. "We were confronted with a man that had
completely no understanding of social change. ..." "I don't think he under-
stands . . . what the people in the black community were saying." "I don't
think he knows anything at all about the black community."
Hayakawa eventually walked out of the meeting while it was still in session.
Chapter VII
THE OUTLOOK FOR THE FUTURE
The story of San Francisco State is an unfinished story. The teacher strike
and the student strike have ended, the violence has subsided, and an uneasy
peace prevails. But the deeply rooted problems which underlie San Francisco
State's crisis and which plague many of the country's higher education
institutions remain to be solved. Among these problems are long standing
social and economic injustices and inequities and the reluctance of the so-
called establishment to respond rapidly to the need for change.
The patience of those adversely affected has been over-estimated. The
student leaders in controversy with the administration were prepared to go
to direct confrontation in order to change the systems and beyond that to
violence.
Sizeable numbers of students and faculty, augmented by elements in the
community as the action built up, were willing to follow this leadership.
When people do not feel for their safety and such direct-action strategy is
used, violence is a virtual certainty.
The violence mirrors the turmoil, the sharply divergent outlook, and the
economic and social imbalances which bitterly divide the American people to-
day. It is misleading to attribute the causes of violence to outside agitators.
The causes lie much deeper. The ugly consequences of violence have ob-
scured the major reasons for the disorders and have obstructed the way to
peace.
San Francisco, justly proud of its tolerance, will not permit property de-
struction or personal assault as a justification for "getting attention." San
Francisco State cannot and should not become "surrogate" for the whole of
San Francisco's social and economic ills. As has been said so often, an educa-
tional institution is of necessity fragile and is not built to withstand direct and
violent attacks aimed at its heart.
Today at San Francisco State the groups involved in the conflict for the
most part are polarized. The students are committed to their struggle as no
generation of students has ever been. The faculty is fragmented, often un-
happy, and increasingly militant over its rights and responsibilities. The ad-
ministration is charged with the duty to manage, but is essentially powerless
to act, caught between the conflicting pressures of the other groups. Trustees
of the State colleges are determined to take a stand at San Francisco State; it
has become for them a watershed of decision, the crucial point as they see it
in a struggle for the preservation of the institutions of higher education.
The political leaders and the public at large are bewildered and angry over
the turmoil and violence on the campus, at San Francisco State and elsewhere.
But the issue will not be disposed of simply by saying that many people do
141
142 Shut It Down!
not like it. The fact is that the "New Left" openly espouses violence as a key
tool in the drive to lock the academic community securely into the general
struggle against the community at large. It indicts all higher learning as the
uncritical servant of business and the military, rather than helping the poor
and the uneducated to advance. It seeks, in extreme form, the destruction of
higher education and its visible institutions as they are presently constituted.
Californians are disturbed all the more because they have taken great pride
in their publicly supported colleges and universities and have generously sup-
ported their more than 100 junior colleges, State colleges, and universities.
Ultimately the progress indeed the survival of California's public institu-
tions of higher learning depend upon broad-based public support. Operating
funds require legislative appropriations, and capital expansion is financed
through the issuance of bonds which require approval by the voters of the
State. These are political and economic facts of educational life in California.
In the final analysis, the State colleges must therefore respond to the vot-
ing public. But the degree of response they should make, and the degree of
insulation which the method of governance should afford them, are vitally
important questions raised by the crisis at San Francisco State.
The present reevaluation of aims and purposes of education at San Fran-
cisco State must be pursued vigorously. On the part of the administration,
patience, firmness, and recognition of curriculum deficiencies will be needed.
On the part of the student leadership and their faculty supporters, there must
be lasting recognition that the language of the gutter, the shock rhetoric, a
willingness to "mount the barricades," vandalism, and personal assault do not
constitute a valid or effective means of getting better education for them-
selves and their followers.
The Study Team talked with State legislators in an attempt to assess politi-
cal reaction and thus to some degree public reaction to the turmoil at San
Francisco State. Because disorders were occurring on other campuses, partic-
ularly at the neighboring Berkeley campus of the University of California, the
reaction goes beyond San Francisco State.
The legislators interviewed are Democrats and Republicans, liberals and
conservatives. For all of them, campus unrest is an immediate and important
issue. Uniformly, they feel that the legislature must make some response to
demonstrate its political credibility to the voters. Their views of the public
attitude differ sharply. The more liberal of the legislators see the public re-
sponse as a rejection of the new doctrine that colleges and universities should
be powerful "relevant" agencies for social change, rather than instruments for
indoctrination in the traditional wisdom. The most conservative see the pub-
lic reaction as a justifiable response to a coercive effort by radicals to impose
their views on the majority. Where one legislator sees the unrest as a struggle
for Negro manhood, another sees only "creeps" and "bums" agitated by a
hard-core preaching revolution imported from Cuba.
A special committee has been created by the State assembly, consisting of
members of the Criminal Procedure Committee and the Education Commit-
tee; the combined membership will hear bills relating to campus conduct-
more than 50 of which have already been introduced. 1
Liberals and conservatives alike agree that some form of legislation regulat-
ing campus conduct through criminal sanction will pass in this session. They
feel it is a political imperative, notwithstanding the recognition among most
The Outlook for the Future 143
of those interviewed that, realistically, there is nothing the legislature can pro-
duce which will give college administrators and law enforcement authorities
any greater legal foundation than they already have for dealing with conduct
on the campus. Nor do most of those interviewed believe that the new crimi-
nal legislation will aid in solving the causes of the violence.
It is unlikely that there will be any reduction in appropriations for higher
education in general. The education committee in the assembly has already
begun work on a $2 million supplemental appropriation necessary to prevent
enrollment cutbacks at the State colleges. While there were some urgings in
the last session that the legislature punish the dissidents by cutting back col-
lege and university funding, most of the legislators believe that they should
continue to reflect a general attitude among California's voters that education
is "good," and that it would be inappropriate to deal with the disorders by
reducing appropriations.
It seems equally unlikely that there will be any substantial increase in sup-
port for higher education. The legislators keep a sharp eye on the political
weather vane. The voters rejected a $250 million bond issue for higher educa-
tion construction in the November 1968 election. The bond issue lost, and it
lost badly; only a few counties supported the measure. The Governor did not
support it. One University of California official, knowledgeable about the
bond issue's defeat, attributed the loss to two things: campus unrest and a
general taxpayers' revolt. (In a number of local elections, voters have rejected
proposals for tax-rate increases and bond issues to finance public schools.)
Special programs, such as the Educational Opportunity Program (EOF),
may suffer. The Governor vetoed appropriations for the EOF from the State
colleges' 1968-69 budget, and a trustees' request for more than $2.4 million
in EOF money was not included in his budget for 1969-70.
Faculty salaries are the area most vulnerable to attack. Several legislators
expressed the opinion that there might be no salary increase. There is a feel-
ing that the few teachers who went out on strike acted irresponsibly, and
their actions may be the cause of the legislature's refusal to provide more
money for salaries. In view of the fact that economic parity for faculty sala-
ries has been a prime issue with the teachers, it would be ironic if the strike
were ultimately to retard the upward progress of faculty salaries.
There has been no dearth of comment from political officeholders or from
political aspirants on the subject of campus disorders. Higher education in
California is woven inextricably into the politics of the State. This is not a
new development, nor a surprising one in view of the massive public financial
support given to the higher education enterprise.
While all public officials are generally concerned about the state of higher
education in California, there are two whose viewpoints are particularly rele-
vant to this inquiry the Governor, and the mayor of San Francisco. Many
people view Governor Reagan and Mayor Alioto as potential opponents in the
1970 gubernatorial race, but that is not the reason they were chosen to sum-
marize and highlight the comments they made in the course of interviews
with the Study Team. Other public officials could choose whether they
would become involved in the San Francisco State controversies. For both
the Governor and the mayor, deep and direct involvement was an inevitable
consequence of office. The Governor is the chief executive officer of the
State, with overall legal responsibility for peacekeeping and public safety; his
144 Shut It Down!
administration, through the Department of Finance, constructs the budget of
the State-college system, as finally submitted to the legislature; and he is an
ex offlcio member of the governing Board of Trustees.
The mayor has the primary responsibility for peacekeeping and public
safety in San Francisco; it is the San Francisco police force which has been
called upon to quell campus disorders; and it is San Francisco taxpayers who
bear the cost of providing the extra police services to maintain order on the
campus-an estimated $700,000 so far. It is not the purpose here to detail
the involvement of these two public officials in the recent events at San Fran-
cisco State College; to the extent that their actions were deemed relevant,
these particulars have been dealt with in other portions of the report. The
purpose here is to summarize comments made to the Study Team so the
reader may make his own analysis.
GOVERNOR RONALD REAGAN 2
The Governor does not believe that the violence is spontaneous although
some of the participants in a crowd disturbance may act spontaneously in the
highly charged emotional atmosphere of the moment, once a disturbance has
started. He believes there is an element that wants a confrontation with the
established structure, and that some of them must be described as anarchists.
He sees radicals provoking confrontation as a tactic to secure a "cushion of
support" among moderate students; this gives the radicals their power. 3
Governor Reagan says the stationing of police on campuses in force can be
preventive; he argues that a premature reduction in force can result in the
immediate escalation of violence a development, as he sees it, at San Fran-
cisco State. At the same time, he states it should be recognized that there is a
limit to what can be expected from law enforcement, a limit to what can be
accomplished in this way, and a limit to what any government can afford to
do. Basically, this must be a society where individuals are bound by their
own inner restraint.
The Governor senses a reluctance on the part of the academic community
to play their part in this battle. While he believes that the real answer lies
with the college administration, the academic community has no tradition of
dealing with violence, and is not prepared to deal with it. Unfortunately, he
says, many people in the academic community are confused by their own
sympathy with some of the demands that are being made. "What they have
failed to appreciate is the necessity of dealing with violent tactics."
"The point is that the violence itself becomes the issue. You cannot give
in to violent tactics. The question that must be asked, if you do, is: who will
use force tomorrow?" Much of what has taken place at San Francisco State
results from the earlier appeasement. At this point, the Governor contends,
society must simply say, "No" that nothing will be done on the basis of
threats and violence.
The Governor wants college administrators to take definite, tough meas-
ures to deal with troublemakers, such as Father Hesburgh has established at
Notre Dame. Expulsion is an effective remedy, because it is permanent. The
hard-core troublemakers should be identified, isolated, and separated from
the rest of the students. People who have no legitimate interest in the
institution, such as nonstudents or those who have long since been graduated,
should not be allowed to agitate on the campuses.
The Outlook for the Future 145
The Governor considers the legislative proposals he has made to be emer-
gency measures which are based on the suggestions of California's college ad-
ministrators; that this is what they have told him they need to deal with the
situation.
He believes it would be a mistake to focus on who the dissidents are,
rather than on what they are trying to do; "attention should be focused on
the damage they are doing, and the potential injury, not only to people, but
to the educational institutions themselves."
It is Governor Reagan's position that public employees do not have the
right to strike; that they simply can't strike against the people. "The govern-
ment, unlike a private business, can't close its doors it must continue to pro-
vide service." On the other hand, machinery can be set up which will assure
access for public employees to the highest officials of government. But once
a decision is made by those officials, it must be a final decision. There is a
study now underway in the Governor's office with regard to grievance proce-
dures for State employees. With respect to the State-college teachers, the
problem as the Governor sees it is that under State law, public officials can-
not meet with any one small group especially when it does not represent the
faculty. Several faculty organizations have told him that they do not con-
sider the American Federation of Teachers representative of the faculty.
Nor does the Governor see San Francisco State as a racial confrontation
between blacks and whites. How can it be, he argues, when there are a far
larger number of black students going to school often in an atmosphere of
threats, fear, and intimidation than are out on strike? Most of the students,
he believes, "are just confused."
Governor Reagan supports the concept of the Educational Opportunity
Program as a worthwhile effort to help students who have exceptional poten-
tial but who, either through family failures or failures of the schools, are not
qualified under the regular admission standards. But in California, he believes
these programs are dealing with a problem that should be dealt with by the
public community colleges. There are more than 80 such colleges in the
State, and those are the institutions to which these students should be admit-
ted in the first instance. The Governor perceives a high likelihood of failure
as a danger in admitting them to the State colleges. If the EOF students are
not able to compete, he says, then, with the most noble of intentions, the
result may be "a very real psychological crippling."
While Governor Reagan has supported black studies programs as a trustee,
he feels one really must ask whether the demands for a completely autono-
mous department is not in reality a request for "sanctuary" from the rigors of
the institution, a shelter from the normal standards. If it is, he asks, then
what will students in these programs have learned when they leave the institu-
tion, and will they be able to compete in the outside world? On the other
hand, the Governor thinks a black studies program might be justified for its
symbolic value alone. He is opposed to a black studies department restricted
to blacks. He feels it might be more useful to get whites into the black stud-
ies department to learn something about black people.
MAYOR JOSEPH ALIOTO
The mayor does not see the campus disorders as part of any Communist
conspiracy. But he does see a need to recognize that a certain hard core (like
146 Shut It Down!
the Maoists, who think that the Russians are part of the "Establishment") has
to be isolated if the violence is to be dealt with effectively. At the same time,
the mayor says one must recognize that the great majority of students and
the teachers are concerned with the real educational issues that are being
raised.
Mayor Alioto argues that the use of militia and talk about education being
a privilege only serve to radicalize those students and teachers who are legiti-
mately concerned.
"You can't just talk tough" says the mayor. Public officials can only af-
ford to be tough if they are willing at the same time to work with the mili-
tants for the constructive solution of legitimate demands. There are, he
argues, some very militant people who are still willing to work within the sys-
tem. For example, he was able to get some young blacks he regards as quite
militant to work with him by going out to the San Francisco State campus to
try to cool off the situation.
Mayor Alioto sees the violence as an indication that society needs to de-
fine some new areas of rights for teachers and for students. "We ought to ex-
amine the lag between law and life." Injunctions have been issued and ignored
in public employee strikes across the country: society says there is no right
of public employees to strike, yet they go out on strike anyway. The fact
that we either despair of enforcing these injunctions or that we are afraid to
enforce them, the mayor argues, indicates that society needs to establish new
grievance machinery, and to redefine some rights. Too many people, notes
Alioto, have forgotten about the violence which attended the women's suf-
frage movement, and the violence that occurred in the organization of labor
unions until the Wagner Act was passed.
"We don't need new legislation to deal with campus disorders," he says.
"We don't need new laws, there are already enough on the books we just
don't enforce them." What is needed, he believes, is a clear definition of the
rights of teachers and students, and the creation of procedures which will give
students a clear definition of the results that follow misconduct.
Mayor Alioto thinks the San Francisco Police Department has done a very
good job; he is reluctant to bring in outside police forces or to use the Na-
tional Guard, because this tends to inflame the situation. Alioto says he made
it clear from the beginning that once the college administration called the
police, the San Francisco Police Department would make the decisions in
dealing with any situation : Procedures were established which allowed police
to absorb two or three rocks or bottles, so that one person could not cause a
confrontation. It was also decided that occupation of any building by force
would not be permitted, nor could any doorway be closed or blocked. Ulti-
mately, it was necessary to ban meetings in the area where violence had oc-
curred before, with an area perhaps 100 yards away designated as the area to
remain open for speeches and rallys. This, the mayor believes, fully protected
the exercise of free speech. He notes that, as a result of these rules the on-
campus violence now seems to have come under control. "It is limited now
to surreptitious nighttime bombings." The police have improved their tactics,
he believes, recalling that in one recent incident some 400 arrests were made
without any violence.
The mayor blames the trustees for some of the violence last fall. He be-
lieves there would have been less violence from the outset if he and college
The Outlook for the Future 147
President Robert Smith had been given an opportunity to prepare for the
trustees' actions in the Murray case. "Bob Smith and I asked the trustees for
just a few days' delay to nail down solid evidence, so that Smith could pro-
ceed with a disciplinary hearing." And, the mayor states, there would not
have been the kind of major violence that occurred on November 13 if city
officials had been given a brief delay, and had an opportunity to set up police
procedures in advance of Murray's suspension.
The mayor sees an important comparison between San Francisco State
College, where local public officials have little influence, and City College,
where they do. Black studies programs have moved at City College, he says.
"Legitimate issues have not been permitted to fester," where, on the other
hand, he argues, they were permitted to fester at San Francisco State and
"the hard liners, who like to exploit these situations, were able to take advan-
tage of it." It is for this reason that the mayor favors local control over cur-
riculum and personnel. He believes there should be a local board, appointed
by the Governor, consisting of residents of the region from which the stu-
dents are drawn, and members from that local board should be appointed to a
statewide board which would handle financing of the entire system.
From the outset, the mayor saw a need for some form of mediation. The
students had nonnegotiable demands, and the trustees did not want to talk to
the students. That was the reason for the creation of the Citizens' Commit-
tee. "It was the only thing which kept the parties talking."
While there are legitimate issues, the mayor finds some of the student de-
mands unacceptable. He is opposed to creation of black studies departments
free of the controls normally exercised on other departments in a college.
Nor can it be open only to blacks "you can't have black racism any more
than you can have white racism." As for amnesty, the mayor says he has
made his belief clear from the beginning that there should be no amnesty for
serious offenses (where violence was involved).
"Those who use violence ought to be willing to take the consequences";
they should not complain, he says, when they are apprehended. On the other
hand, he sees no problem in giving amnesty for offenses such as failure to
disperse; it is a traditional method of settling disputes.
ACTING PRESIDENT HAYAKAWA
Finally, one cannot discuss the outlook for the immediate future of San
Francisco State without considering the perspective of Acting President S. I.
Hayakawa.
Acting President Hayakawa draws a distinction between the white radical
students and the black radicals who have been involved in the protests and
confrontations at San Francisco State.
The black radicals want a better America. And they may use revolu-
tionary methods at moments, but they are willing to give them up as
soon as it's clear that the administration is willing to do something to
improve the quality of their education and their opportunities within
the system. White radicals, like the SDS, don't want to improve Amer-
ica. They just want to destroy it and louse it up in every way possible.
So I have nothing to offer them.
355-234 O - 69 - 11
148 Shut It Down!
There are many reasonable demands the blacks are making, which
I'm fully prepared to work upon, very hard. This is a community with
many, many non white minority groups here. You have to pay serious
attention to what their needs are.
In attempting to explain some underlying causes of the turmoil at his cam-
pus to a congressional committee on February 3, Acting President Hayakawa
used the following analogy:
If we were dealing with hunger instead of education, you can imag-
ine what would happen if we had a walled city in which the citizens had
all the food they needed while outside there were hordes of starving
people. We could not open the gates just a little to admit handfuls of
the starving and expect the rest to remain patient outside.
No.
We would have to be prepared to open the gates wide and to admit
everyone, or be prepared for a riot. That is the situation now with
higher education.
We have opened the doors just a little with special programs that
serve hundreds while thousands are clamoring for education. I believe
that we should open the gates fully, even at enormous expense, to pro-
vide educational opportunity at every level high schools, adult schools,
junior colleges, State colleges and the universities for our entire minor-
ity and poor populations. We should mobilize the best brains available,
just as we did when the nation attacked the problems of modern sci-
ence, to solve an educational crisis that means as much to our national
welfare as our efforts in outer space. . . .
It is not easy at this point to predict the course of events on our
campus or elsewhere. I feel that the danger to the Nation and to higher
education has been vastly underestimated by a majority of people.
Most of the news and much of the commentary deals with the action
rather than the underlying causes of dissent and the methods to correct
obvious ills.
If we are to end campus rebellion without destroying the educational
institutions, we must redirect our energy. We must look beyond the
day-to-day combat to the reasons underlying this deadly attack on
higher education. We must learn to deal both with the dedicated revolu-
tionary leaders and the unsolved problems that help them enlist follow-
ers. The solution to these problems will take time, brains, and money.
This Nation is amply endowed with those resources. But we must act
promptly and decisively.
San Francisco State is certainly unique, but then so is every institution of
higher learning. In a very real sense, the problems which plague San Francisco
State are akin to the problems which beset most public universities and col-
leges and many private ones, particularly in metropolitan areas. The problems
of black students and other minorities are not peculiar to San Francisco State.
Institutional inflexibility and communication breakdowns are characteristic
of many colleges and universities. Trustees, administrators, faculty, and stu-
dents throughout the system of American higher education are reassessing
The Outlook for the Future 149
their roles and relationships. No institution has adequate funding to meet all
of the demands placed upon it. Nearly every institution now has its radical
minority of students and faculty willing to resort to violence to achieve its
goals, and nearly every institution has its larger middle group ready to rally to
the radical cause if the institution does not respond or responds in a way they
deem to be improper. Legislators and politicians in every State stand ready to
intervene in college affairs, and alumni do not hesitate to bring to bear orga-
nized pressure in support of their views.
One definition of education is "the development of the special and general
abilities of the mind." If San Francisco State is to fulfill this mission for its
students, it cannot function, nor can any college, in an atmosphere of turmoil
and fear. So it must balance detachment with involvement, procedures with
results, dialog with action. Otherwise, San Francisco State will again and
again be subjected to disruption and violence.
Those officially concerned with higher education in California can restore
a great measure of public and student confidence in our educational process
by a thorough review of the whole spectrum of present educational policy,
especially as to admission qualifications and content of curriculum. This
should be accompanied by similar reviews of administrative procedures, in-
cluding student discipline and participation in school decisions.
The extent to which San Francisco State and other colleges are able to act
decisively and swiftly needs examination, and steps must be taken to bring
president, faculty, and students truly together in critical periods. Unless this
is done, an overriding public opinion may force the conversion of San Fran-
cisco State and other colleges into screened and guarded camps, institutions
of learning in name only and in reality isolated from the mainstream of
American life.
A British statesman once said: "It is in the University . . . that the soul of
the people mirrors itself." If this is so, it may not be a banner of revolution
that militant students are raising, so much as a mirror to society at large.
References
Week of Mar. 17, 1969: The State Senate passed four measures to deal with campus
disorders. The bills passed by the senate would: (1) Make it a crime punishable by
fine of up to $5,000 and 5 years in prison for anyone to willfully "use force, violence,
threat, intimidation, extortion, or coercion" to obstruct any school officials in per-
formance of their duties. (2) Require the mandatory expulsion of any State college
student found to have participated in a disruption, or to have attempted to do so, and
prohibit his readmission for 3 years. (3) Permit a State college president to declare a
"state of emergency" if a disruption of normal activities occurred or was threatened,
and to restrict access to the campus. Violation would be a misdemeanor. (4) Require
the mandatory firing of any State college faculty member found to have participated
in a campus disruption, or to have attempted to do so, and prohibit his rehiring for a
3 -year period.
The Governor said he approved the senate's action but thought that further legis-
lation was necessary if dissidents were to be effectively excluded from the campuses.
While the Study Team is satisfied with the fairness and accuracy of these summaries,
the reader should not consider them to be direct quotations, except as specifically
indicated.
150 Shut It Down!
3. Editors note: In late February, subsequent to the Study Team interview with the
Governor, he requested a meeting of the National Governors Conference in Washing-
ton, D.C., to endorse a nationwide investigation of the "growing evidence" of a broad
conspiracy to cause disruption on college campuses; the conference rejected the re-
quest after assurance by the Nixon administration that a Federal inquiry was under-
way.
APPENDIX 1
TEN DEMANDS OF THE
BLACK STUDENTS UNION
1. That all black studies courses being taught through various other depart-
ments be immediately part of the black studies department and that all instruc-
tors in this department receive full time pay.
2. That Dr. Hare, chairman of the black studies department, receive a full
professorship and a comparable salary according to his qualifications.
3. That there be a department of black studies which will grant a bachelor's
degree in black studies; that the black studies department chairman, faculty,
and staff have the sole power to hire and fire without the interference of the
racist administration and the chancellor.
4. That all unused slots for black students from fall 1968 under the special
admissions program be filled in spring 1969.
5. That all black students who wish to, be admitted in fall 1969.
6. That 20 full-time teaching positions be allocated to the department of
black studies.
7. That Dr. Helen Bedesem be replaced in the position of financial aid
officer and that a black person be hired to direct it and that Third World
people have the power to determine how it will be administered.
8. That no disciplinary action will be administered in any way to any
students, workers, teachers, or administrators during and after the strike as
a consequence of their participation in the strike.
9. That the California State College Trustees not be allowed to dissolve
any black programs on or off the San Francisco State College campus.
10. That George Murray maintain his teaching position on the campus for
the 1968-69 academic year.
FIVE DEMANDS OF THE THIRD WORLD LIBERATION FRONT
1 . That schools of ethnic studies for the ethnic groups involved in the
Third World be set up, with students for each particular organization having
the authority and the control of the hiring and retention of any faculty
member, director, and administrator, as well as the curricula.
2. That 50 faculty positions be appropriated to the schools of ethnic
studies, 20 of which would be for the black studies program.
3. That in the spring semester the college fulfill its commitments to the
nonwhite students in admitting those that apply.
4. That in the fall of 1969, all applications of nonwhite students be
accepted.
5. That George Murray and any other faculty members chosen by non-
white people as their teachers be retained in their positions.
151
APPENDIX 2
COMMENT ON THE POLICE
The San Francisco Police Department as a result of its 1968-69 duties at
San Francisco State College-probably has more knowledge of effective tactics
for coping with large-group student demonstrations than any police depart-
ment in the Nation.
Most observers agreed that the police efficiency in controlling or dispersing
crowds increased steadily as the student strike lengthened. The police seemed
more assured and effective in their tactics in late January than in mid-
November.
The performance of the police drew high praise from the mayor and college
administrators. "They gave us the only help we got," said one beleaguered
college official.
Student strikers (and many nonstrikers) would disagree.
The confrontations at San Francisco State brought charges of police bru-
talityas has almost every other major confrontation between students and
police, whether in the streets or on the campuses.
When he reopened the campus in early December, San Francisco State
College President S. I. Hayakawa repeatedly warned students over his power-
ful loudspeakers: "Do not form crowds. Do not join crowds that already
exist."
"There are NO innocent bystanders in this situation, because a bystander,
even if innocent in intent, serves to shield with his body the activities of
troublemakers."
Such orders were often greeted with choruses of boos, obscenities, and
shouts of, "ON STRIKE! SHUT IT DOWN!" Police were many times pelted
with rocks and other objects thrown by members of the crowd, and they were
continually subjected to shouted epithets from the students. "Pigs off
campus!" was one of the most frequently used chants.
There was hostility. There was bloodshed. There was confusion. Inevi-
tably there were instances of police overreaction.
Other investigators in other reports have dealt extensively with analyses of
police in a rapidly changing urban society. The problem is agonizingly com-
plex and delicate.
The Study Team conducted an investigation into police performance. How-
ever, it would not aid in understanding the causes and prevention of conflicts
like San Francisco State to detail here all of the comments by advocates, both
for and against the police.
Indeed, much of the material which would be essential to a full and fair
exposition of this subject cannot be obtained pending the outcome of crim-
inal actions, disciplinary proceedings, and civil suits for personal injuries.
153
154 Shut It Down!
It would be unrealistic to believe that confrontations such as those which
took place on the campus of San Francisco State College sometimes involv-
ing thousands of students and hundreds of police in roving combat across the
campus could occur without some injuries to both sides.
It would be as unthinkable to condone police abuse such as the unwar-
ranted clubbing of demonstrators or mistreatment of prisoners once inside
police vans as to condone the violence of student agitators such as planting
bombs, starting fires, and throwing rocks. But these allegations are not the
things upon which to focus if one is to understand the role of the police in
campus confrontations.
American college campuses are not enclaves from which police are barred
like some South American universities.
Indeed, it is clear as a matter of California law that a policeman's duty to
keep the peace does not stop at the campus gates. On the State-college cam-
puses general agreements have been worked out between local administrators
and police; the police generally do not enter the campus in force without in-
vitation, but this is a matter of practice, not a legal requirement.
The police have been called onto the San Francisco State campus by each
of its last three presidents.
Former President Robert Smith told the Study Team:
This puts me at odds with some of the faculty, [but] . . . police are part
of any society.
I have no big thing about not calling the police for protecting people's
safety.
The first essential fact is that the institutions of higher education are with-
out any means of protection against overt violence save regularly organized
police forces. The second essential is to understand that in urban America,
1969, a great many students probably a majority bring with them to the
campus a tremendous hostility to the police. The hostility is not restricted
to those who are black and poor.
What is important to an understanding of the campus confrontations is
that the reservoir of hostility among students provides a ready tool for those
who would use it. If a police overreaction can be provoked (or if through
error or lack of proper control or their own hostility the police should over-
react), radical activists win immediate converts among the so-called "silent
majority." Previously uncommitted students are "radicalized." The police
are the common enemy, and "getting the pigs off campus" becomes the com-
mon goal. The appearance of the police on campus may then be enough in
itself to turn a calm day into an angry confrontation. The police themselves
recognize this. As one police official told the Study Team, "It's a victory for
those just to have us on that campus."
There is no fail-safe formula for use by college and police administrators in
determining when the appearance of police on campus quells or incites mobs.
And while student anger at the presence of the police is predictable, college
administrators have the dilemma that their institutions are peculiarly vulner-
able and, against the threat of open force, they have no choice but to call the
police.
APPENDIX 3
BOARD OF TRUSTEES OF THE
CALIFORNIA STATE COLLEGES
5670 Wilshire Boulevard
Los Angeles, Calif. 90036
Ex Officio Members
Ronald Reagan, B.A., Governor of California
Robert H. Finch, B.A., LL.B., Lieutenant Governor of California
Max Rafferty, Jr., A.B., M.A. Ed.D., State Superintendent of Public Instruction
Jesse M. Unruh, B.A., Speaker of the Assembly
Glenn S. Dumke, A.B., M.A., Ph.D., LL.D., L.H.D., Chancellor
Appointed Members
(The terms of each trustee expires on March 1 of the year indicated in parentheses.
Terms are 8 years.)
Mrs. Philip B. Conley, B.A. (1972), Fresno
Native of Sacramento; wife of Judge Philip Conley, Fourth Appellate District
Court of Appeals; mother of James McClatchy, William E. McClatchy, Charles K.
McClatchy, and Philip P. Conley; civic and community leader in Fresno; graduate
of Vassar.
AlecL. Cory, B.A., LL.B. (1973), San Diego
President, San Diego Bar Association; appointed Deputy City Prosecutor; named
Rationing Attorney for the Office of Price Administration; senior partner in law
firm of Procopio, Cory, Hargreaves and Savitch; member of the Charter Review
Committee of the city of San Diego; served on the education committee of San
Diego's Chamber of Commerce; completed a term as president of the UC Alumni
Club of San Diego County.
George D. Hart, A.B. (1975), San Francisco
President, George David Hart, Inc.; trustee, Ross School District; Director, Con-
stantin, Ltd., of London, Liberty Mutual Insurance Co. of Boston, Liberty
Mutual Fire Insurance Co., and Mutual Boiler Insurance Co.; past President, San
Francisco Library Association; former member of the San Francisco Art Commis-
sion; member of the Board of Governors, San Francisco Employers Council.
Louis H. Heilbron, A.B., LL.B., LL.D. (1969), San Francisco
Attorney at law; trustee, World Affairs Council of Northern California, Newhouse
Foundation, and University of California International House; past president,
San Francisco Public Education Society, and State Board of Education; chairman
of trustees, 1961-63.
155
156 Shut It Down!
Earle M. Jorgensen (1970), Los Angeles
President of Earl M. Jorgensen Co., steel products distributing firm; serves on the
Board of Directors of Northrop Corp., Transamerica Corp., American Potash &
Chemical Corp., and Hollywood Turf Club; member 01 board of trustees of
California Institute of Technology; charter member of University of Southern
California and Pomona College Associations; member of St. John's Hospital
Board of Regents; past director of YMCA of Los Angeles, Junior Achievement
of Los Angeles County, and California Chamber of Commerce.
Edward O. Lee, B.A. (1974), Oakland
Occupational department chairman of the East Bay Skills Center in Oakland;
former Oakland High School teacher; served as business agent for the American
Federation of Government Employees, Local 1533; served on Human Relations
Commission and was on the Equal Opportunities Committee; past member of the
Oakland Adult Minority Employment Committee; past president of Oakland
Federation of Teachers, Local 77 1 ; member of the executive board of the Central
Labor Council of Alameda County.
Charles I. Luckman, LL.D., A.F.D. (1974), Los Angeles
President, Luckman Associates, Architects; former president of Lever Brothers;
served on Presidential Commissions on Equality of Treatment and Opportunity
in the Armed Services, on Metropolitan Area Problems and Chairman of Food
Commission; Director, Southern California Symphony Association; president
of Los Angeles Orchestra Society; chairman of trustees, 1963-65.
Theodore Meriam, A.B. (1971), Chico
Department store manager and vice president and director of Lassen Savings and
Loan Association, Chico; former mayor of Chico; past President, League of
California Cities; formerly Chairman, Chico State College Advisory Board. Re-
ceived honorary master's degree, Chico State College, 1959.
William A. Morris, B.A., LL.B. (1972), Los Angeles
Attorney at law; served as member and vice president of State Board of Education
and board's representative on State's Coordinating Council for Higher Education;
named special counsel to President Kennedy's commission on airlines in 1961;
served as law clerk to Justice William O. Douglas during 1955-56 term of the
U.S. Supreme Court; worked on the California-Arizona Colorado River litigation;
member of American, California, and L. A. County bar associations; partner in
Los Angeles law firm of Tuttle and Taylor.
Daniel H. Ridder, B.A. (1975), Long Beach
Copublisher of Long Beach Independent-Press Telegram; director and vice presi-
dent of Twin Coast Newspapers, Inc.; Director, U.S. National Bank of San Diego;
former publisher of St. Paul Dispatch, Pioneer-Press; past president of Western
Conference of Community Chests, United Funds, and Councils; past president
of Long Beach Community Chest; director, Bureau of Advertising of the
American Newspaper Publishers Association; Chairman of Advisory Board of
St. Mary's Hospital of Long Beach.
Albert J. Ruffo, LL.B., B.S. in E.E. (1971), San Jose
Teacher, engineer, and attorney; member of Tau Beta Pi and Woodsack Engineer-
ing and legal honor societies. Former vice president, Board of Governors, State
Bar of California; member of American Bar Association and American Judicature
Society; former City Councilman and mayor of San Jose; former member of
faculty, University of Santa Clara; Assistant football coach, Santa Clara, Calif.,
and 49ers; chairman of trustees, 1965-67
Board of Trustees of the California State Colleges 157
Paul Spencer, B.A. (1969), San Dimas
Citrus rancher and president, Sycamore Groves, Inc., former general contractor;
former building inspector for Los Angeles City School System; former project
engineer for Federal Public Housing Administration; director, San Dimas Lemon
Growers Association and San Dimas Orange Growers Association; director,
Reliable Savings and Loan Association, West Covina; served as member and
president of Bonita Union High School board of trustees; past president of Alumni
Association of Occidental College; past director of Southern California Chapter
of Associated General Contractors.
Dudley Swim, A.B., M.A. (1976), Carmel Valley
Chairman of Board of National Airlines; Director of Providence Washington
Insurance Co.; previously appointed to Coordinating Council for Higher Educa-
tion; Trustee of Rockford College, 111., Wabash College, Ind., Cordell Hull Foun-
dation for International Education, Free Society Association; former director of
Fremont Foundation; member of advisory board of Hoover Institution on War,
Revolution and Peace; a director of Stanford Research Institute; president of
Monterey County Foundation for Conservation; previously served as national
vice commander of American Legion.
James F. Thacher, A.B., LL.B. (1970), San Francisco
Partner in the San Francisco law firm of Thacher, Jones, Casey & Ball; Director
of Actors Workshop and Neighborhood Centers of San Francisco; served on the
California Toll Bridge Authority, the Commission on the Disposition of Alcatraz
Island, and on the budget study committee of Northern California's United
Crusade.
E. Guy Warren, B.A. (1973), Hayward
Owner, Warren Trucking Co.; member of Executive Board of California Trucking
Association; member, Alameda County Fair Board of Directors, Alameda County
Mental Health Advisory Board, and trustee of Hayward Union High School
District; former president of California Trucking Association; past president of
Western Highway Institute.
KarlL. Wente, M.S. (1976), Livermore
President of Wente Brothers Winery, Wente Farms, and Wente Land and Cattle
Co.; director of Automobile Association, Livermore Valley Memorial Hospital,
Livermore Water District, and the Livermore branch of Bank of America. He is
a Stanford University graduate.
APPENDIX 4
A CONCEPTUAL PROPOSAL
FOR A
DEPARTMENT OF BLACK STUDIES
Nathan Hare
April 29, 1968
American college education is in a state of crisis. All over the country
there is erupting a volcano of student alienation and resentment doubly so
in the case of black students, the group with which we are here most directly
concerned.
Black students are products of experiences which robbed them of a sense
of collective destiny and involvement in the educational process. This is a
many-faceted problem, but the fundamentals of its solution will incorporate
the stepping up of the meaningful and significant participation of black stu-
dents in college life and its goals.
The black studies idea originated with the black students, the Black Stu-
dent Union at San Francisco State College. It not only reflects their cries-
echoed by others across the country for relevant education; it also repre-
sents the greatest and last hope for rectifying an old wrong and halting the
decay now gnawing away at American society. It is, then, more far reaching
than appears on the surface, and indeed this cannot be otherwise, inasmuch
as any educational system arises to care for what is felt to be a society's edu-
cational needs.
While San Francisco State College, spurred by its black students, has pio-
neered perhaps the first program of promise to solve the problem, there is
detected about the country a growing irony: the probability that other insti-
tutions, for various reasons in the years ahead, will pass us by. In one sense,
this is as it should be; in another, it is not. In any case, black studies presents
a challenge, in one way or another, to San Francisco State College and its
imitators.
Many persons, white and Negro, cannot understand the necessity for a
black studies program. Indeed, conversations with academicians across the
country on the education of Black Americana, suggest that even those persons
who have accepted the basic idea of black studies do not fully understand its
need. They see the goal as the mere blackening of white courses, in varying
number and degree. They omit in their program the key component of com-
munity involvement and collective stimulation. Thus their program is individ-
ualistic (aimed at "rehabilitating" individual students and potential students
159
160 Shut It Down!
by means of pride in culture, racial contributions generally, and regenerated
dignity and self esteem); they fail to see that the springboard for all of this is
an animated communalism-more about this later aimed at a black educa-
tional renaissance.
Many well-intended efforts to rectify the situation under discussion accord-
ingly are doomed to inevitable failure. They comprise piecemeal programs
which, being imported, are based on an external perspective.
An eminent Negro professor proposed to a trouble-shooting college com-
mittee recently that the problem could be solved by increasing drastically the
ratio of black (by which he meant "Negro") students and professors. The
students for the most part would be admitted with the expectation that, ex-
cepting those salvaged by tutorial efforts presently in vogue, they would even-
tually flunk out, merrier for having acquired "at least some college." Although
his proposal in principle should have been inaugurated long ago, let alone now,
it is not the answer to the problem which he (and we herein) are trying to
solve. As a matter of fact and one must endorse the professor's suggestion in
fact though not in theory insofar as to do otherwise would appear to condone
current tokenism there is tenable fear that such an approach may be used as
a play to appease the black community while avoiding genuine solutions to
the problem.
A representative from a wealthy foundation recently proposed to give full
financial assistance to the "talented tenth" and to hire black persons to recruit
such students and inform them of the availability of such aid. Unlike most
persons, he at least realized that providing aid, while permitting persons accus-
tomed to discriminatory treatment to remain unaware and suspicious of its
existence, is only slightly better than providing no aid at all.
Be that as it may, a talented-tenth approach (in this case based frankly on
"verbal facility" as the major indicator of college potential) is largely super-
fluous to the educational needs of the black race as a whole. Talented-tenth
students, for whatever reason, have escaped the programmed educational mal-
adjustment of the black race, just as some trees survive the flames of a forest
fire. Besides, many persons with more verbal facility than the author may
fail the test (in some cases) or, having passed the test, drop out of college or
flunk out (often one way of dropping out) or disdain the rush to college in
the first place.
Such a program, though noble on the surface, offers supertokenism at best,
but neglects the important ingredient of motivation growing out of collective
community involvement. It is individualistic in its orientation and only in-
directly, therefore, of collective consequence.
Another fear now in the air asserts that the black studies program will com-
prise "a college within a college," owing to its "deplorable separatist leanings."
Even if it be so that black studies would ring more separatist in tone than
Latin American Studies, Oriental Studies, and the like, this is not the issue.
The question of separatism is, like integrationism, in this regard essentially
irrelevant. The goal is the elevation of a people by means of one important
escalator education. Separatism and integrationism are possible approaches
to that end; they lose their effectiveness when, swayed by dogmatic absolut-
ism, they become ends in themselves. It will be an irony of recorded history
that "integration" was used in the second half of this century to hold the
black race down just as segregation was so instigated in the first half. Inte-
A Conceptual Proposal for a Department of Black Studies 161
gration, particularly in the token way in which it has been practiced up to
now and the neotokenist manner now emerging, elevates individual members
of a group, but paradoxically, in plucking many of the most promising mem-
bers from a group while failing to alter the lot of the group as a whole, weak-
ens the collective thrust which the group might otherwise master.
A related question frequently raised revolves around the participation of
white students in the program. The anger must be ambivalent inasmuch as
the program has to be aimed primarily at the black student, particularly in its
motivational activities involving the black community. At the same time, it is
recognized that, so long as some white graduates continue to work in the black
community, they and the black community will benefit from their exposure
to a least some portion of black studies. This could result in the reeducation
of white society.
The danger is that white students will flood black studies courses, leaving
us with a black studies program peopled predominantly by white studies. One
way to draw white students off (or/and care for the surplus) is for existing de-
partments to increase their offerings in blackness as they are doing now under
the guise of "dark" (or, as sociologists say, "color-compatible") courses. This
would probably result in greater benefit to the white students' needs anyway
and most certainly would offset the apparent sense of threat in the minds of
conventional departments. It may be necessary eventually to distinguish
black education for blacks and black education for whites. There is no insur-
mountable incompatibility or mutual exclusiveness between black studies and
ethnic group courses in other departments. Indeed they are easily reinforc-
ing and could make a major contribution to better "race relations" or, as poli-
ticians are fond of saying now, "the effort to save the nation" in decades
ahead.
Black studies represents a last-ditch, nonviolent, effort to solve a grave
crisis, a particular crisis. To try to solve all problems at once is to risk weak-
ening its impact on central crisis, although, like a stone tossed into a lake, the
resulting waves might reverberate from shore to shore. Likewise, we recognize
the need for a coalition, somewhere ultimately, of endeavors to improve and
increase the educational participation of all ethnic groups. It is only that the
assault must be both intraethnic and interethnic, for we cannot afford to lose
the motivational ingredient of intraethnic e spirit des corps and community
involvement.
REDEFINITION OF STANDARDS
A vital issue in the quest for institutionalization of the black studies idea-
particularly in its early stages is that of "standards." Bear in mind, to begin
with, what current standards evolved in large part from a need to restrict the
overflow of recruits (the principle of exclusion) into existing professional
riches. This gave rise to occasionally ludicrous requirements. The late social
theorist, Thorstein Veblen, author of Theory of the Leisure Class, might hold
that the liberal arts approach grew out of the leisure class mentality, where it
was prestigious to be nonproductive and to waste time and effort in useless
endeavor. Hence footnoting minutiae and the like. When middle class aspir-
ants began to emulate these codes, the principle of exclusion evolved. How-
ever, now we are faced with the educational enticement of a group conditioned
162 Shut It Down!
by way of the cake of time and custom to being excluded. How do we trans-
form them into an included people? For example, a law school graduate with
high honors might fail the "bar" exam (pun intended) because of political
views, or fail the oral exam for teaching certification because of an unpopular
approach to teaching. Or make mostly A's in required courses only to fail the
homemade (unstandardized) "comprehensive" exam. Or pass everything re-
quired except the "lauguage" exam. It is widely known that languages studied
for graduate degrees are quickly almost totally forgotten and are rarely of any
use after graduation. Much of the motivation for the retention of this and
even more useless requirements apparently stems from the "leisure class"
origin of the "liberal arts" approach where, as Thorstein Veblen explained,
prestige was attributed to "nonproductive" or wasteful useless endeavor.
In any case, the requirements for the most part were devised to serve the
functions of exclusivity rather than recruitment. Not that recruitment efforts
did not exist, but they have been heretofore aimed at individuals inclined to
receive them. Now we are facing the necessity for collective recruitment
from a group victimized as a group in the past by racist policies of exclusion
from the educational escalator.
On the college level, the two most salient "qualifications" for professional
rank today are the possession of a Ph.D. and a string of "scholarly" publica-
tions. While we endorse such criteria, up to a point, it is essential (particularly
in light of current shortage of such credentials on the part of black candidates)
to examine and stress the desirability of freedom to depart from those criteria
without risking the suspicion of "lowering standards." That the Ph.D. is not
necessarily synonymous with teaching effectiveness is accepted by most per-
sons confronted with the question. Less understood is the question of
publication.
Consider two candidates for a position in history, one qualified a la con-
ventional standards, the other not. Never mind the fact that articles outside
the liberal-moderate perspective have slim chances of seeing the light of day
in "objective" scholarly journals. More ludicrous is the fact that the black
historian, in adhering to the tradition of "footnoting," is placed in the unen-
viable position of having to footnote white slavemaster historians or historians
published by a slaveholding society in order to document his work on the
slavery era.
RECRUITING OF BLACK STUDIES FACULTY
White administrators frequently complain that they cannot find black pro-
fessors (i.e., "qualified"), and this is often a legitimate complaint. A black
studies program, however, would not be bound by this problem, certainly not
nearly in the same degree. There is a keener interest in such a program on the
part of potential professors who are black than there is making a move for a
conventional professorship. Already, many have volunteered to come to San
Francisco State College, but, because of our current lack of funds for the pro-
gram, none has been chosen.
We speak here of black individuals with Ph.D.'s and, in some cases, credit-
able publications or, in many cases, high publishing potential. Remember also
that the redefinition of a "qualified" professor (honoring teaching effective-
ness and enthusiasm more than qualities determined by degrees held and other
A Conceptual Proposal for a Department of Black Studies 163
quantifiable "credentials") will permit dipping into the larger fund of qualified
black professors without doctorates.
The question arises as to the participation of the white professor. The
much-considered answer is that their participation, at least during the early,
experimental stages of the program, must be cautious and minimal. However,
the impracticality of recruiting sufficient number of black professors may well
cause this idea to give way. Any white professors involved in the program
would have to be black in spirit in order to last. The same is true for "Negro"
professors. Besides, white professors are permitted-indeed urged to increase
course offerings on minority groups in regular curriculum from which white
students (and interested Negroes) might benefit.
COMMUNITY INVOLVEMENT
To develop the key component of community involvement, it is necessary
to inspire and sustain a sense of collective destiny as a people and a conscious-
ness of the value of education in a technological society. A cultural base, act-
ing as a leverage for other aspects of black ego development and academic unit,
must accordingly be spawned and secured.
Students and other interested parties will be organized into Black Cultural
Councils which will sponsor cultural affairs (art, dance, drama, etc.) in the
black community and establish black holidays, festivities and celebrations.
For example, a Black Winter Break could begin on February 21 the day they
shot Malcolm X, run past George Washington's birthday and end with
February 23, the birthday of the late black scholar, W. E. B. Du Bois. This
could approximate the Jewish Yom Kippur.
Black information centers will be set up to increase communication, inter-
personal contact, knowledge and sociopolitical awareness. In this connection,
a black community press, put together by the hands of members of black
current events clubs and students taking courses in black journalism or/and
black communications, would seem highly beneficial. In any case, the black
information center would engage in research, accumulate useful data, materials,
and information to be disseminated along with advice on social problems and
individual affairs such as social security benefits.
Propaganda aimed at motivating black children to acquire education in-
deed to induce dropouts to return to school could emanate in large part from
this source. At the same time, campaigns (drop-back-in-school drives) would
be waged, modeled on methods of voter registration, to rescue black school
dropouts. Those returning to school, and others in academic trouble, will re-
ceive intensive tutorial aid from qualified black college students.
For the direction of this and other educational efforts, a Bureau of Black
Education could be established to provide black scholars mutual aid and stim-
ulation, and to organize black textbook and syllabi writing corps. Much teach-
ing, however, especially on the college level, would disdain current racist text-
books in an effort to escape the confines of perfunctory learning and utilize
the laboratory of life.
There is a need for professors relevant to the needs of black students, pro-
fessors with whom they can identify and take as models of emulation, pro-
fessors who have the capacity to inspire students to search for knowledge and
social mobility. A teacher needs three must have at least three qualifica-
355-234 O - 69 - 12
164 Shut It Down!
tions: 1) an effective relationship to learners; 2) relationship to the content
of the school's program; 3) and depth in understanding how learning takes
place and of the art-science of instruction. 2
Much of this and more could be stimulated in part by faculty unity.
Along with conventional departmental meetings, faculty unity and cross-fertil-
ization will be developed by means of: 1) a program of exchange lecturing,
where one professor lectures to the class of another; 2) chain-teaching, some-
times interdisciplinary, where several professors assigned to a course rotate
at respective stages in the course; and 3) the central lecture with subsidiary
discussion sessions particularly for interdisciplinary courses.
Central lectures might be held in church auditoriums so that individuals
in the community could partake of them. Persons known to be making a sig-
nificant impact on American society in the areas under study could be re-
cruited as guest lecturers, or salaried part-time lecturers, in an intensive effort
to utilize the resources of the black community while simultaneously increas-
ing the community's sense of involvement in the educational process. In the
latter connection, it will be useful to establish some kind of off-campus
college extension, ultimately, with special emphasis on adult education and
where mothers and others might receive correspondence courses. The courses
would be geared, in the case of mothers, to improve their ability to exploit
the educational potential of their special relationships with their children,
preparing some of them to people a program of associate-teaching in the ele-
mentary and preschool levels. Such preparations could be rounded off by on-
the-job- training. Most of the foregoing is in no way new.
Finally, to wed and cement community and curriculum practicums and
apprenticeships in connection with course work would seem invaluable. This
would tend to increase the commitment of black students to the community
while simultaneously permitting them to "learn to do by doing" and compris-
ing a flow of volunteer assistance to cooperating functionaries in the commu-
nity i.e., businessmen, politicians, leaders, social workers, community orga-
nizers, teachers, preachers, educators, and the like.
THE BLACK STUDIES CURRICULUM-A FIVE YEAR PLAN
To insure the measurement of significant results, the black studies program
must comprise at least a five-year plan. The initiation of the program is to be
accomplished in two stages: (1) Phase I, involving the pulling together of
some of the currently experimental courses into a new department by Septem-
ber 1968; and (2) Phase II, the inauguration of a major consisting of an inte-
grated body of black courses revolving around core courses such as black his-
tory, black psychology, black arts, and the social sciences. Such a curriculum
has been constructed, but certain rough edges are still being ironed out, and,
because it is not essential to this conceptual proposal, it is not being presented
here. Phase II could follow by September 1969. The administration at Yale
University, for example, recently approved such a major (African and Afro-
American Studies).
However, Yale's program omits the key components of student field work,
as a part of the course requirements, in the black community. This is an old
idea on the surface, but as here conceived, it further involves an effort to
transform the community while educating and training the student. For ex-
A 'Conceptual Proposal foi a Department of Black Studies 165
ample, students in black history might be required to put on panel discus-
sions for younger children in church basements, elementary and junior high
school classes, and so forth. A class project might be the formation of a black
history club. A class in community organization could form civic clubs, while
individual students served apprenticeships under community organizers. Stu-
dents in black journalism, black economics (business), education courses
(teachers), black politics or what not, could do the same. Thus education is
made relevant to the student and his community while the community is, so
to speak, made relevant to education.
In this direction (bearing in mind the anticipated growth of the college
population generally) we propose the admission of 300 additional black stu-
dents in the school year 1969-70, 500 in 1970-71, 1,000 by 1971-72, 1,500
more by 1972-73, and 2,000 by 1974-75. These numbers should be adjusted,
of course, to suit the developing needs for educational and socioeconomic
parity on the part of the black race.
STUDENT SCREENING
Criteria complementary to, or/and exclusive of, currently standard tests
will be used to determine college potential of black students. These are to be
developed, using available consultants, by the admissions wing of the black
studies program.
Remedial and tutorial work will be necessary as well. However, special
care will be taken to safeguard against the situation, such as recently became
apparent at a predominantly Negro college in Washington, D.C., in which
many students were failing remedial courses while passing courses in the regu-
lar program for which remedial courses supposedly were preparing them. 3
Also, in spite of a high flunkout rate arising largely from an open-admission
policy and a desire to "raise standards" (using proportion flunked as the major
index), more students with a "C" average or above failed to return to school
each year than in the case of those with less than a "C" average.
Professors and staff also must be added at appropriate rates, beginning with
three professors by September 1969, and accelerating to a full departmental
staff with each succeeding year.
The specific content of the curriculum follows herewith. Although it is
much of it expressive (geared to ego-identity building, etc.), the utilitarian
function has by no means been omitted; it can be expanded as knowledge of
its implementation accumulates. The black race woefully needs concrete
skills, in a technological society, both for individual mobility and community
development.
While the black studies program-as our model indicates-would not pre-
clude electives outside the black curriculum, even for majors, it would seek
to care for a wide range of academic training in the humanities, the social and
behavioral sciences. Though most persons enrolled in black studies courses
would not be majors, those graduating as such could become probation offi-
cers, preparation for careers as lawyers, social workers, teachers, scholars, pro-
fessors, research scientists, businessmen, administrators, and so on. They
would, other things being equal-we feel certain-quickly emerge and predom-
inate in the upper echelons of the black community.
166 Shut It Down!
Aside from the matter of intensified motivation (and increased commit-
ment) to the struggle to build the black community) students who have mus-
tered even a smattering of black studies courses would be advantaged in their
postcollege work in the black community. They would be armed with early
involvement and experience in the community superior to that of students
not so trained. Like their Chinese, Greek, Jewish, and other pluralistic coun-
terparts, those employed outside the black community would possess a keener
sense of security as individuals and would be better equipped to present the
black perspective. This would benefit the black community indirectly and
perhaps assist those members of the white community who, like the black
studies program, seek, in a roundabout way, a better society for all of its
members.
Tentative Black Studies Major For Fall, 1969
Core courses: Units
Black History ................................... 4
Black Psychology ................................. 4
Survey of Sciences: Method and History ................... 4
Black Arts and Humanities ........................... 4
Black arts concentration:
The Literature of Blackness ........................... 4
Black Writers Workshop ............................... 4
Black Intellectuals ............................. 4
Black Fiction ................................... 4
Black Poetry ..................................... 4
Black Drama ..................................... 4
The Painting of Blackness ............................. 4
The Music of Blackness ............................. 4
Sculpture of Blackness ............................... 4
36~
Behavioral and social sciences concentration:
Black Politics ................................... 4
Sociology ..................................... 4
Economics of the Black Community ..................... 4
The Geography of Blackness ......................... 4
Social Organization of Blackness ....................... 4
Development of Black Leadership ....................... 4
Demography of Blackness ........................... 4
Black Counseling ................................. 4
Black Consciousness and the International Community ........... 4
IT
References
1. The Outstanding Young Teacher, for Washington, D.C., in 1966, as chosen by the
Junior Chamber of Commerce, the World Book Encyclopedia, and American Uni-
versity's Department of Education, moved recently to another city, armed with a
master's degree plus 30 additional hours accumulated in meeting the requirements
A Conceptual Proposal for a Department of Black Studies 167
of other school systems in the past, only to be told that she must pass the National
Teachers' Exam in her field. She informed the personnel officer that she had passed
the test in her field plus one other. Then she was told that she would have to take
five additional courses in order to "qualify" for teaching credentials.
2. Robert H. Anderson, Teaching in a World of Change (New York: Harcourt, Brace &
World, 1966).
3. There is no documentation for this. It was privately shown me in the registrar's
office by a former employee of the registrar's office. However, it was publicly be-
moaned at a faculty meeting on the problem that many students were passing
regular courses while flunking remedial courses.
APPENDIX 5
San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle Accounts
of Student Strike Settlement, March 21-23, 1969
[S. F. Examiner, Friday, Mar. 21, 1969]
HAYAKAWA REPORTS ON STRIKE PACT
By Phil Garlington, Jr.
Acting President S. I. Hayakawa will make public today the bones and muscle of his
pact with striking students that has brought the contentious four month strike at San
Francisco State College to an official but anticlimatic finish.
Both sides announced yesterday that the strike was over, but some administrators
gave the impression they were unhappy with the settlement worked out by Hayakawa's
Select Committee.
The committee, composed of six administrators and faculty, was empowered by
Hayakawa to resolve the issues contained in the 15 demands of the Black Students Union
and the Third World Liberation Front.
Amnesty Row
Although the two sides had reached a basic accord on most issues nearly a week ago,
the question of amnesty not only prevented an earlier settlement but also threatens to
become a problem once again.
According to Frank Brann, attorney for the striking students, the amnesty agreement
with the administration is as follows:
There will be no expulsions. Students found guilty of violence -meaning an attack
on another person -will be suspended for two semesters, while students guilty of disrupt-
ing classrooms will be suspended for the remainder of the semester.
Those charged with lesser offenses, amounting to approximately 95 percent of the
cases, will be given a written reprimand.
Also, Bishop Mark J. Hurley, chairman of the Mayor's Citizens Committee on S.F.
State, is expected to exert his influence to lessen the penalties meted out to students in
the civil courts.
Charges Stick
The mayor, however, repeated yesterday that the City would not drop charges against
those accused of violent acts although he said he would favor amnesty for students
charged with minor violations.
Although Hayakawa gave the Select Committee power to negotiate with the strikers
and reach a settlement, it appeared yesterday afternoon that he and his top staffers were
dissatisfied with at least the part of the agreement dealing with amnesty.
Hayakawa, who has earned much of his reputation as a college president for a hard
line against disruption, reportedly was upset with the rather sweeping provisions for am-
nesty conceded by his committee.
Under other provisions of the pact, a panel of minority community leaders is to take
"a leading role" in implementing the demand for a School of Ethnic Studies, in which
would be the Black Studies Department.
169
170 Shut It Down!
This panel would decide on such things as who would be chairman and who would
teach in the school and departments.
Rehiring
Brann implied that this panel would be free to rehire Nathan Hare, who was fired as
chairman of the Black Studies Department by Hayakawa, and George Murray, the Black
Panther and ex-English teacher who is now serving six months in jail as a parole violator.
The rehiring of the two were included in the demands.
Although it is not certain either Hare or Murray would return to State even should
they be offered a job, it does not seem likely that the administration would consider
their return acceptable.
The problem underscores what one administrator termed "the crucial fault" with the
settlement: that it does not set out who has the ultimate authority in hiring faculty for
the new minority curriculums, a subject over which disputes are bound to arise.
Admission
Another demand of the strikers, that Helen Bedesem, head of the financial aids, be
replaced, was resolved by the placement two months ago of a black administrator in that
office to handle the cases of minority students.
In regard to the demand for unlimited admission of minority students, Brann said
the agreement stipulated that "virtually all" those minority students who wished would
be admitted.
The signing of the agreement late yesterday provided one of the few moments of
public drama during a week in which most of the action took place behind closed doors.
Contingents of students representing the various groups within the TWLF streamed
up to a conference room on the third floor of the Humanities Building where they were
met by two members of the Select Committee for the signing ceremony.
First Step
Afterwards, the TWLF and BSU met newsmen briefly to say the ending of the strike
was merely a first step in the fight against institutionalized racism and that "the struggle
will now intensify."
Benny Stewart, a member of the BSU central committee, said the strike and the settle-
ment would serve as a "model" for high schools, colleges and universities to follow.
[S. F. Examiner, Saturday, Mar. 22, 1969]
S.F. STATE PACT TERMS A MONTH OLD
By Phil Garlington, Jr.
The settlement between the San Francisco State College Select Committee and the
student strikers contains basically the same provisions as were offered by the adminis-
tration over a month ago.
Released by the committee late yesterday, the text of the agreement differs from
the administration's position of last month only on the question of amnesty.
Acting President S. I. Hayakawa said yesterday, however, that he did not feel the rec-
ommendations on disciplinary procedures were binding on him, even though it was
Hayakawa himself who empowered the Select Committee "to resolve the issues of the
strike."
In fact, Hayakawa yesterday claimed that there had been no strike, since "cutting
classes, individually or collectively is not a strike, in the labor sense."
San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle Accounts of Student Strike Settlement 171
He'll Wait
The famed semanticist said, however, that he had made an agreement with the strikers
to wait until April 11 before making any final decision on disciplinary penalties.
And he accepted the main conclusions of the agreement as administration policy.
Although there was a place on the agreement for Hayakawa's signature, the president
said he did not feel it was necessary for him personally to sign the document.
On amnesty, the agreement stated that the committee and the strikers joined "in rec-
ommending to the President" that penalties against all students-except those convicted
of violence-be reduced to written reprimands.
After Hayakawa made public his reservations about mitigating penalties, the Select
Committee, composed of six faculty and administrators, went into an immediate meeting.
Distraught
Reportedly, the members were distraught over Hayakawa's apparent rebuke of their
amnesty recommendation. But when the committee released the text of the agreement
yesterday afternoon, it was accompanied only by a mildly worded letter asking him to
"reconsider" his position on the amnesty recommendation.
The TWLF and the BSU, meanwhile, had no official comment on Hayakawa's stand.
Hayakawa said the settlement did not signal "defeat or victory" for any side, but in
Los Angeles Governor Reagan said the settlement was a "victory for the people of
California."
Reagan said, "Hayakawa is not recommending amnesty. Each individual case will be
treated as an individual case."
"On the surface there would certainly seem to be room for optimism," the Governor
said.
After the settlement was announced, signs such as "Reagan has won," and "No am-
nesty for campus criminals" appeared on walls around a construction site in the college
quadrangle.
In other action on the State campus, several dozen professors belonging to the Ameri-
can Federation of Teachers picketed the business building to protest the failure of the
School of Business to reinstate Morgan Pinney, an associate professor of accounting.
Pinney, an AFT teacher who took part in the teacher's strike, was not reinstated be-
cause he did not return to class by the deadline set by the Council of Academic Deans, the
administration says.
The AFT, however, claims it was a violation of the agreement settlement.
[S. F. Sunday Examiner & Chronicle, Mar. 23, 1969]
GAINS AND LOSSES IN S.F. STATE PACT
By Phil Garlington, Jr.
The strike settlement at San Francisco State College represents-in the main-a liberal
response to the demands of militant minority students.
The broad, long range demands for a minority curriculum and for the admission of
more minority students-were granted.
The narrower demands, however, for such things as the retention of certain people
and the replacement of others, were either compromised or lost
As it turned out, the 15 demands were "non-negotiable" only so long as an active
and at times violent strike crippled the campus. When that petered out, the Black Stu-
dents Union and the Third World Liberation Front quickly became as pragmatic about
talks with the management as any labor union.
172 Shut It Down!
When the bitter rhetoric finally dies away, it will become clear that the college has
taken several strides toward bringing that much heralded relevant education within reach
of larger numbers of non-white students.
Indorsed in its main conclusions by acting President S. I. Hayakawa, the settlement
is mild, liberal and reasonable, in the recognized academic tradition.
Most of the provisions were drawn up by a select committee of six members, faculty
and administration, and presented to the BSU and TWLF.
These provisions were pretty much accepted by the BSU and TWLF, but they insisted
on mitigation of penalties for those arrested in disturbances.
Hayakawa, however, who declined to sign the agreement, has not committed himself
as yet to the so-called "amnesty" recommendations.
He said he will wait until April 11 to make any final decision regarding penalties, in
accordance with an agreement with the BSU on March 1 1 that there would be a cooling
off period.
The agreement states that police will be withdrawn immediately on the restoration of
peace, and that the state of emergency will be rescinded immediately upon settlement
of the strike, together with the emergency regulations restricting assemblies, rallies, etc.
By not signing the agreement and by making public his reservations about the amnesty
recommendations, Hayakawa retains the integrity of his original hardline position against
student unrest.
Getting a healthy minority curriculum started quickly has become mandatory because
of one far reaching provision of the agreement and one which Hayakawa did seem to
agree to.
This centers on BSU demand number five: "That all black students wishing to do so,
be admitted in Fall, 1969."
For openers, the administration agreed to try to get the law changed so that the col-
lege can waive the usual admission requirements for 10 percent of the yearly applicants
rather than the present four percent.
That could mean as many as 1,800 nonwhite students unqualified under the present
rules could attend the college yearly.
More immediately, the college pledged to "actively recruit" non-white students. This
fall, 1000 of the expected 4670 new students will be non-white, meaning there will be
4750 non-white students out of a total enrollment of 17,700-26 percent.
In agreeing to set up a School of Ethnic Studies (part of which will be the Black
Studies Department) the administration approved a community board to oversee de-
velopment, but did not specify what form this board will take.
Appointments on this board must be agreeable to the college, to the Third World
faculty, "involved" Third World students and the Third World communities.
Hayakawa, however, will retain final authority over hiring.
On personnel matters the situation is still obscure.
Hayakawa says his decision to fire Nathan Hare as chairman of the Black Studies De-
partment still stands. Likewise for George Murray, Black Panther ex-English teacher
serving six months for parole violation.
Hare, however, says he thinks he will be chairman "because the black community"
wants him.
Other agreements in the pact include:
Staffing and admission policies on the School of Ethnic Studies shall be nondiscrim-
inatory, meaning that whites can be teachers and students in the school.
Differences in interpretation are to be worked out by a three man panel, one member
chosen by the president, one by the Dean of the School of Ethnic Studies, and the third
by the first two.
U. S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE : 1969 O - 355-234
TASK FORCE REPORTS
D VIOLENCE IN AMERICA
l Comparative
D THE POLITICS OF PROTEST
Violent Aspects of Protest
& Confrontation
D FIREARMS AND VIOLENCE
IN AMERICAN LIFE
INVESTIGATIVE REPORTS
D CHICAGO
D CLEVELAND
D MIAMI
D COUNTER INAUGURAL \
D SAN FRANCISCO STATE |
COMMISSION REPORTS
Cl PROGRESS REPORT TO
THE PRESIDENT
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